


Brave New World

by Killashandra



Series: BNW Stories [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle, Canon Typical Violence, Dead Characters, Everything is Different, F/M, I mean it guys, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow is not called Aegon, Lemon Cakes, Like really slow, Murder, Non-Consensual Groping, She's eleven, Should I put Needle in the characters' section?, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, characters in order of appearance, dying character, needle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 76,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killashandra/pseuds/Killashandra
Summary: All hail Sansa of House Stark, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.//The "Rape/Non-Con" warning doesn't apply to the main pairing.





	1. One Absolutely Premeditated and Three Completely Unintentional Murders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maracuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/gifts).



> The whole story was born in my mind when I remembered a tale about polish Queen Regnant Jadwiga who was crowned at the age of ten and at the age of 12 she married a man who was about 20 years older (from 10 to 25; sources vary). It was said that the Queen sent a courtier to check if her husband-to-be wasn't 'a fur-covered bear'. The courtier was invited to baths, so that he could check in detail. Apparently the result was positive because the couple got married soon after. Then I imagined that it was Sansa instead of Jadwiga and Tywin instead of Jagiełło and so the seed was sown.
> 
> I also always wanted to mend at least some of the wrongs that happened in GoT. I just love some of the characters too much to let them go and Tywin is the most important to me amongst them (though he certainly isn't the only one).
> 
> So Sansa became Sansa of House Stark, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. She also needed a consort and who better than The Great Lion of Lannister to fill that role? No one. At least in my mind. I just love the pairing so much.
> 
> I don't worship GoT as religion, so some of my facts might be wrong. Also the further down the road, the further the show gets from the books and I must admit I like parts of both. I haven't read all the books. Somtimes I'll also change something to better suit my needs. What I mean is this: don't get too attached to details. I'll be glad if you can like them as they are in this story, but I'll also be happy if you can enjoy the story regardless of them. Just remember: it's meant to be fun. If it's not fun for you just leave it.
> 
> This is going to be a long project and I don't know when I'll be able to update it, but what I know is that there's nothing more encouraging than comments. You liked something? Tell me. You didn't like something or thought something could have been done better? Tell me. If I make mistakes that bother you enough to tell me about them, I'll be glad to correct them when you point them out.
> 
> I don't own the characters, nor the world, nor the plot (well maybe I do own some of the latter). Anyways I don't seek to profit from this story nor claim it to be entirely original.

Her hand trembled only in the slightest way possible when she poured the contents of the small, crystal vial to the wine that was prepared for her husband's supper. She was doing it for the man she loved and for her son so she knew that her cause was a just one. Her husband was a very busy man and worked late into the night, but she knew that he would consider leaving the prepared tray of food untouched rude. And if he was anything in his life, he was polite. She also knew that he would eat it alone in his solar during or right after work and that he would have sent the servant away earlier, so as not to keep him too long.

All those habits of his now worked in her favour. His body would be long cold by morning when he would be found and no one was going to be the wiser of her involvement in the entire matter. In the morning, woken by a servant come to bring her the bad 'news' she would be able to claim truthfully that she fell asleep not waiting for him because she knew his habit of staying up late. All that was left was to join her friends for an evening shopping trip to have some last merry hours before her custom imposed time of mourning came upon her. She had only these few hours to celebrate and she was going to make the most out of them. It was also her alibi in case the body was discovered earlier than she'd planned.

Although she sincerely doubted such possibility even existed, she informed a servant about her plan of going shopping in case her husband chose to inquire about her whereabouts. It was expected of her and she needed to make everything seem normal.

*** * * * * * ***

While she was enjoying it, the time passed more quickly than she had thought possible. It was the first time in years when she felt truly free. She was determined that nothing was going to spoil her joy. She bought some colourful things that she knew would lay unused for some time, but she didn't care about it. All that mattered was having fun and the exhilarating feeling of being able to breathe freely after having been caged for so long.

When she first heard a voice calling her, she thought it might be one of her friends, but she soon discovered it wasn't. A servant was coming towards her calling her name loudly, as if in panic and he was followed by four of her husband's guards. Her smile disappeared quickly and she didn't even have to pretend. It was way too soon for them to have discovered his body. She had a terrible feeling that something must have gone very wrong. She asked what had happened, but no one said a word, probably so as not to spread the gossip in the town, so she let herself be led back to the tower she'd left not so long before. Only when she was seated did someone come to offer her an explanation she wanted so badly. It was one of her husband's knights. He tried to be gentle not knowing exactly how to break the news to her. She would have laughed at his efforts had it happened in the morning, but at that moment she was too impatient to wait any longer, so she prompted him.

“In the name of the Seven, I beseech you! Speak clearly what had happened!”

“My Lady, your husband is dead.” The man's voice broke, but she had already known that much and desperately needed to hear the rest that she was already sure would follow, so she pinned him down with the stare of her blue eyes. “The King and the Queen are struggling for their lives and the heir to the throne passed away a few minutes before your arrival.”

All blood seemed to have left her body and she could feel herself going white. All the joy of the evening had turned to ashes.

“Take me to my sister!” She demanded, her voice low and defeated. This one evening the gods had to play with mortal lives at her expense. Why did the royal couple have to join her husband on this particular night? And joined by her favourite nephew too? She allowed herself to be led again up the stairs and into a chamber that was occupied by four beds and a crowd of people that surrounded them.

“Let me through.” She asked, but her voice was too weak for anyone to hear her. She pulled every little bit of energy that was left in her body and formed it into three words. “Let. Me. Through!”

This time it worked and the crowd moved away from her path. The bodies on the two side beds were already covered with sheets and she ignored them for the time being. There would be time for the dead later. She had to concentrate on the living. On the bed to the right lied a man, but instead of the strong King, she grew to admire despite herself, he was but a ghost. He looked like a shadow of his former self. She tried to speak, but she couldn't. Then she walked to the bed on the left. There lied her beloved sister. Barely recognisable because of the suffering that marked her face, but still stunningly beautiful.

“Sister.” She whispered. The woman on the bed tried to speak, but couldn't force a single word out. “Sister, please be strong.” The words were coming back to her. She was more aware of what was happening around her. “Grand Maester, what happened to them? Can you tell me? You must save them, please.”

The man looked as if she demanded a miracle from him, but she didn't care. If it was what was needed, that was what she wanted. Alas she knew that nothing could be done. Sure their bodies were stronger than her husband's, but not strong enough. Knowing it was goodbye she turned back to her sister not even listening to the man's explanation.

“Big sister, please forgive me. I cannot help you. I cannot save you.” Tears were flowing down her cheeks, but she didn't care. “I was not good enough a sister. I failed you so many times. But you were always so good to me. Please don't leave. Please forgive me.” She could not talk aloud about the real reason she needed forgiveness, but when she looked into her sister's eyes a glimpse of understanding passed between them.

“I forgive you. I love you.” Said Catelyn Stark and she breathed her last.

At that moment Lysa Arryn didn't care about anything anymore. She wailed loudly as someone took her out of the room, as she was led to her chamber and laid on her bed. She cried until she lost consciousness and the black claimed her, bringing not peace, but emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of names throughout this chapter, but I was trying to make it mysterious and a bit confusing.


	2. The Act of Succession

Sansa woke up with a terrible headache and burning eyes. For a few blissful moments she couldn't remember the reason behind her unusual condition. Then the reality came crushing in. She remembered one of her father's Kingsguards coming to find her in her room the previous evening and relaying the events. She remembered running to the Tower of the Hand. This alone was most unusual for her. Sansa was a proper Princess. She didn't run around like Arya did. However, this one time she didn't have time to walk slowly or mind her dignity. Her parents and brother were dying and she had to see them. She remembered holding Robb's hand as his life was slipping from him like water from between fingers. She remembered her aunt's wild appearance and her mother's last conversation with Lysa. When the wailing woman was led away from the room Sansa stayed, holding her father's hand, praying to the Old gods and the Seven to spare at least his life if she couldn't have a mother and an elder brother anymore. Slowly the room emptied as people went away. In the end it was only her, uncle Robert and the Grand Maester that remained. Her father drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he was lucid, but at other times he didn't know what was happening or even who he was. He even called her Catelyn at one point which resulted in her crying even harder. She didn't remember leaving his bedside. She must have passed out from all the crying and overall exhaustion.

Sansa got up quickly and put on a simple black dress even without calling her handmaiden for help. There was no time to waste. As she walked out of her chamber she saw that Ser Arthur Dayne was guarding her door. She asked him about her father and he said that the King was still alive and that he hadn't been moved from the Tower of the Hand. Sansa didn't even hesitate before running again. It wasn't a mad sprint from the previous night, but it was far above her usual speed limit. There was only Robert in the room this time. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.

“Have you managed to rest at least a little bit, Sansa?” He asked her informal as ever, but she didn't mind. Although they weren't truly related, her father and Robert were as close as brothers and Sansa had long before learned to consider him her uncle. She nodded, but said nothing. “I've carried you to your chamber when you've passed out, but it seemed a few moments ago. It surely wasn't more than three hours. You have to rest. You will need all the strength you can get now.”

Sansa's head was turning even before he'd finished. “I need to stay with him.” She insisted, but accepted when he moved a chair for her near the head of the bed where her father was lying. “How has he been?”

“Restless like before for maybe an hour after you've left, but then he seemed to have calmed. He's sleeping peacefully now and at least for the moment his condition isn't getting worse. At least that's what the Maester said.” Robert's answer was interrupted by Pycelle's arrival. “Speak of the devil.”

“Princess Sansa.” The old man greeted her. “The King's condition is stable by far, but I feel it's my duty to inform you that you should be prepared to say goodbye if he wakes.” Sansa was terrified by hearing that if in his sentence, but she managed to remain calm. The possibility that her father would die in his sleep had to be considered and however much she wanted him to wake up to be able to talk to him, she had to acknowledge that passing away in his sleep would spare him at least some suffering.

“Is there no hope of saving him, Grand Maester?” She asked even though she already suspected his answer. She had to ask.

“I'm sorry, but his fate is now in the hands of the gods.” He replied. “I've done everything I could.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. You can leave us now.” He looked as tired as she felt and at his age it had to be even harder on him than on her. The old man bowed and left. Sansa looked at the Kingsguard that had accompanied her. “Ser Arthur, please go find my siblings, inform them delicately and have them wait nearby. The King might want to see them when he wakes.” She couldn't bring herself to say if. The knight bowed and left without a word.

Minutes passed in silence as they sat there on both sides of the King's bed. Sansa noticed that at some point during the night the three bodies were carried out and the other three beds were empty. She felt a deep pit in her stomach just thinking of her mother and brother. She and Robb were always close as children and he always found time for her even when he was busy. Sansa's mother was a constant and ever present force in her life. Whatever happened Queen Catelyn was the embodiment of strength, but also kindness and grace. All her life Sansa had only wanted to be like her mother. She didn't know Jon Arryn very much. He was always busy with the affairs of the state, much like her own father, but while the King had made effort to find at least some time to spend with his wife and children, the Hand spent most of his time in his solar when he wasn't attending the various meetings that required his presence. But she knew that her father loved the man dearly and treated him like his second father having been a ward in Lord Arryn's household in his youth.

Sansa's musings were interrupted by a faint noise that came from the bed. She rose to grab a goblet of water that was prepared on a nearby table. Robert helped the King shift into a more vertical position and she held the goblet to her father's lips helping him drink.

“You damned fool.” Robert greeted his friend, but it wasn't spiteful. Sansa knew that Robert had tried many times to persuade her father to take more care of his own security, but the King wouldn't listen, too naïve to believe that someone would try to murder him in his own palace.

“Paper and ink on the table, write down what I say.” The King's voice was weak and he didn't have time to argue with his friend. “I, Eddard of the House Stark, the First of ... you know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles. I hereby command Lyanna of the House Stark, titles, titles, to serve as Lady Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death, to rule in my stead until my daughter Sansa comes of age.” Ned must have seen the displeased look on Robert's face. “I know you two aren't on the best terms, Robert, but for the good of the Realm I must now ask you to work with her to help Sansa.” He tried to smile, but his face was so hollow that it looked nightmarish. “We both know you're no King material. You knew it fourteen years ago when you refused the crown and left the weight of the Realm on my shoulders. I don't blame you. You're a warrior and Sansa will need your help, but she'll need her aunt's strength too.” That she'd need a mother figure went unspoken, but it was clear that they both thought about it. “Give it here.” The King said when Robert was done writing and signed his name.

“Damn you, Ned.” Robert's face was contorted as if he was struggling with himself inside. “Alright, I'll do what you ask, but I promise you that it won't be easy.”

“I never said it would be.” The King turned towards Sansa. “My dearest daughter.” His weak hand found and squeezed her own. “I'm really sorry I must put this burden on your shoulders while you're so young, but I have no doubt that you'll do greatly. Listen to your aunt and this giant here. They will help you. Fill your council with people you trust to tell you when you're wrong. Listen to your advisers, but follow your own path. The Realm is now your duty.”

Sansa wanted to argue that he wouldn't die. That he would lead the Realm for many years to come, but she could clearly see that it wasn't true.

“Do you want to see others now?” She asked instead for she knew it would help ease his mind and they deserved a chance to say goodbye.

She went to the door to ask Ser Arthur to bring them in. To her surprise it wasn't only her sister Arya and her brothers Bran and Rickon that joined them. Behind them were Daenerys Targaryen and Margaery Tyrell her parents' wards, Theon Greyjoy the King's hostage-ward from the Iron Islands and uncle Robert's children Myrcella and Tommen. Robert's eldest son was missing, but Sansa paid it no mind. Joffrey was cruel and malicious so he would have spoiled the moment anyway. They all gathered around the King's bed. Sansa's father, though he was weak, took his time to talk to every single one of them.

When he was done he asked everyone but Sansa to leave and ordered his Kingsguard to come to him. The seven knights that filled the room were really a sight to behold and Sansa was a little intimidated. Sansa knew all their stories because her brother Bran always wanted to hear about them. Barristan Selmy also called Barristan the Bold, Arthur Dayne called the Sword of the Morning, Brynden Tully called the Blackfish, Brienne Tarth called Brienne the Beauty, Jaime Lannister called the Kingslayer, Loras Tyrell called the Knight of Flowers and Jorah Mormont called Jorah the Bear.

“My loyal Kingsguard.” The King spoke. “It is my will that my daughter become Queen when I die. Her aunt Lyanna will be Regent. You'll obviously do it later in public too, but I want you all to swear your loyalty to her now. Protect her, serve her, guide and counsel her. She will need your help.”

Sansa stood up while one by one the members of her father's Kingsguard swore their oaths to her. It was only after they were done that they realised that the King had died. His face was peaceful and there was a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ned became the King after the Sack of King's Landing.
> 
> Yes, Lyanna isn't dead. No, she isn't married to Robert.
> 
> Why Sansa and not Bran? Obviously I wanted Sansa on the Iron Throne. But I also wanted to make the world a bit better for women. I don't see why a capble person should be overlooked in the line of succession simply because of their sex. And Bran is seven! I know Sansa is only eleven, but it's still better than seven.


	3. The Matters of the State and the Reservation of a Place in the Ninth Circle of Hell

After her father's death Sansa spent some time with her siblings and friends, but Robert interrupted them reminding her that she was now Queen and she had duties to attend to.

“The sooner you assume your duties, the better. Your parents' and brother's death will bring unrest to the court and consequently to the whole Realm. You need to be seen ruling to maintain stability.” His words were true and she couldn't quarrel. “I know that you've just lost half of your family. I loved your father as if he were my own brother, but you know full well that he wanted the kingdom to be peaceful and united. He was a good king and people loved him, but some people might see your young age as a weakness or even an open invitation to strike. You need to show them strength.”

As much as she didn't want to think about her new duties she could see the clear reasoning behind his words. She couldn't fail her father and waste his efforts. “Call for a council meeting.”

“I'll go right about it. We'll be ready for you in a half an hour. That should give you time to change.”

“Change?” She asked not understanding his words.

“Yes, Sansa, change. You're not a princess anymore. You're the Queen even if you weren't crowned, so you must look like one. I'm sure your handmaidens will be able to find something suitable for the time being before you commission something new.” He explained patiently to her, knowing that she was still in shock.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa really did look more like a queen when she entered the small council chamber flanked by two members of her Queensguard. Her dress was a black one this time too, but it had gold threads sown into it. She was also wearing matching earrings and necklace. Her hair was fashioned in a way that it seemed to form a natural auburn crown on her head.

The room was already filled with the small council members. Robert and Renly Baratheon sat side by side and were the first to rise and bow when she'd entered. Next to them sat the Grand Maester whose old age prevented him from standing up swiftly. At the other side were Lord Varys and Lord Baelish who followed the Baratheon brothers' example. The last one was Ser Barristan who arrived with her.

“I'm very sorry for your loss, Your Grace.” Lord Varys was the first to offer his condolences.

“Thank you, my Lord. That is very kind of you.” She replied politely. Other people went on to offer condolences, but Sansa cut it short. “I'm very grateful for your consideration for my feelings, but we need to discuss matters of state.” She remembered the list of things she'd made in her mind. “The matter of the murders must be investigated thoroughly. We also have to send a letter to my aunt informing her of the King naming her Regent. The Lords and Ladies of the Realm must be summoned to attend the funeral and my coronation. Am I missing something?”

“Your Grace is quite right, but there are more things to discuss.” Said Renly. “Lady Lyanna won't be here till next month. The funeral cannot wait that long. I suggest the funeral be held in one week time and we can organise a Remembrance Ceremony when Lady Lyanna arrives. After that there will be your coronation. Is that acceptable, Your Grace?”

“Yes, of course, Lord Renly. Thank you.” She replied.

“There is one other matter.” Said the Grand Maester. “As Lord Renly pointed out Lady Lyanna won't be here for a month. Your Grace should name the new Hand or a temporary Regent until her arrival.”

Sansa considered his words. She had thought of it, but hoped she could avoid making that choice. She didn't know who she could appoint her Hand. She also didn't want to appoint one of them temporary Regent for fear it could create a dispute for power when her aunt arrived. But maybe if she gave the job to a person who was reluctant to take it?

“You are right. Thank you, Grand Maester. I hearby name Lord Robert my Regent until my aunt's arrival.” Robert bowed to her and she turned to the Master of Coin. “Lord Baelish, how much do you think will the funeral and the coronation cost?”

“It depends, Your Grace. Will you want a tourney held in the memory of the King, the Queen, the Prince and the Hand? And another one to honour your coronation?”

“I'm sure that two tourneys would be superfluous.” Sansa knew that her father wouldn't approve of such extravagance. “There will be a feast for the Lords and Ladies present after the funeral and a tourney to honour the memory of the King, the Queen, the Prince and the Hand after my coronation.” As much as she didn't like the thought of spending money on a tourney, she knew that it was customary and even her father had relented when it was absolutely necessary.

“I will make all the necessary calculations and consult you about it later.” Said the Master of Coin.

“Thank you, Lord Baelish.” Said Sansa. Then she looked at the Commander of her Queensguard. “Ser Barristan, you will be in charge of the investigation to find the murderer and I trust you'll put your every effort into it. The rest of the council will help you should you need it.” Her statement was followed by a murmur of argeement.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Said the knight.

“Is that all?” When there was no protest she turned her attention towards Pycelle. “If you wouldn't mind, Grand Maester, I'd like to follow you to your office to discuss the letter to my aunt and the list of people that should be invited to the coronation.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Said the old man.

“Thank you all for your help and counsel.” Said Sansa and she left accompanied by the Grand Maester and her Queensguards.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa watched as a large unkindness of ravens flew hastily away from the Red Keep. They carried summons for Lords and Ladies of the Realm to attend her father's funeral and her own coronation. One of them also carried a special letter to her aunt Lyanna, informing her of the King's will naming her Regent. Sansa wished her aunt could be with her. A week earlier Sansa wouldn't have thought of her own coronation. Yes, it was a possibility in case of Robb's childless death, but it wasn't something she thought probable. Never had she thought she would be crowned in Robb's place.

She was in the Grand Marster's office when suddenly Theon came in. She was about to ask him what he wanted, but then everything happened very fast. Theon drew his sword and was about to strike her, but she felt a hand pushing her out of the harm's way. The blade cut her shoulder, but apart from that nothing else happened to her. The Grand Maester screamed in pain and Theon in rage that his attempt was thwarted. He was about to attack again, but the noise brought her guards in. Ser Barristan shielded her from the fight while Ser Jorah engaged the attacker. Seeing that he was no match for the experienced knight Theon ran through the door. Ser Jorah followed him.

“Please let me see your wound, my Queen.” The old knight asked when they were alone.

“No, don't. It's just a scratch. Help the Grand Maester.” She insisted, but when the knight moved the fallen man they both saw that his throat was slit and he was already dead.

“Why would Theon do such a thing?” She asked and the question hung unanswered in the air between them.


	4. Serious Suspicions and First Impressions

Sansa had so many things to do that she had little time to think about the tragedy that had happened. In the days after she became the Queen she had moved to the chambers that had belonged to her parents earlier. She had protested, but Robert managed to convince her. He also insisted that she should commission new gowns and other pieces of clothing that befitted the Queen. Her duties consisted of attending the small council meetings, holding court and meeting with many different people. Robert was with her every step of the way and she was infinitely grateful for his support. He told her that she didn't have to do everything herself, but she wanted to. She had to learn so much more if she wanted to be a good ruler. In the afternoons she still attended lessons with her siblings, Margaery and Daenerys or on her own. The two girls have been a great source of comfort for her. It was strange to think that they were both her wards, but it was technically true since they were wards of the Crown. Still Sansa didn't know if she could have managed to stay strong without their help. The evenings she spent in her solar with Robert replying to letters and reading various documents that covered matters form extremely important to small details that still needed their attention.

*** * * * * * ***

“Half of this work is usually done by the Hand. Have you already considered someone you could appoint yours?” Robert asked her one night when they stayed up late because of the great amount of work.

“It's a hard choice and you know it. I'm too young to have known people for a longer time and I need someone I can trust, but at the same time it has to be someone who has experience. I'd appoint you, but seeing how you suffer every day being Regent I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I forced you to do it. Maybe aunt Lyanna will be able to help me with that dilemma. Who would you propose?”

“If I were to choose a Hand for myself I'd choose my brother Stannis, but you know him very little and he can be a difficult person to deal with. But maybe you could name Margaery's grandma your Hand? You know her quite well and you know she has a sharp mind. Though I'd dread to see that woman having so much power. How about your grandfather Hoster? He could do the job even though he's old. I know you've met him several times. And if you think he's too old then maybe your uncle Edmure? Have you thought that you might appoint one of your Queensguards? Ser Barristan is already Lord Commander, but you could name any single one of the others. You know them all since a very young age and they are loyal. I know it's not ideal because that would deter the one you choose from their duties as your guard. Still sooner or later you'll have to choose and the sooner you do, the sooner we can start getting to bed at a reasonable hour.” Sansa considered his words, but decided she'd wait for her aunt's arrival.

*** * * * * * ***

In the mornings Sansa woke up tired, but she put on a good face and went about her day. After the incident with Theon she hardly went anywhere without a guard and never without her direwolf Lady. She was also often accompanied by Grey Wind who seemed to have chosen her as his new companion after Robb's death. The direwolves were gifts that aunt Lyanna brought all the Stark children on her last visit. All the siblings loved their cubs dearly and brought them up themselves. The direwolves grew quickly and soon became the children's friends and guardians. Apart from safety there was another major advantage of walking around with direwolves in tow. It made people respect her because as much as they were afraid of the animals they admired a young girl who could make the beasts submit with a single gesture or word.

Among her siblings and friends there was an atmosphere of mourning and disappointment. Everyone was shocked by Theon's behaviour and dreaded the day of his trial. Sansa was horrified by it. What Theon did was high treason and the punishment for that was death. She knew she couldn't leave the crime unpunished, but she had always thought of Theon as her brother as much as she thought of Daenerys and Margaery as her sisters. His treason hurt even more because Sansa couldn't understand why he would do it. She was sure she had never given him a reason to despise her so much. She'd even gone to the black cells to see him, but he refused to talk to her. The situation was also difficult politically. As a ruler Sansa couldn't show weakness because it would invite others to follow in the traitor's footsteps, but if she executed Theon the Iron Islands would most surely rebel once again.

*** * * * * * ***

“Sometimes when I try to understand a person's motives, I play a little game.” Said Lord Baelish when she'd asked him about Theon. “I assume the worst. What's the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say and doing what they do? Then I ask myself: how well does that reason explain what they say and what they do? So, tell me what's the worst thing Theon could want?”

“He wanted to kill me.” She replied.

“Yes, but why? Killing you was his goal, but what could he gain from it?”

“He could... He wanted revenge for his brothers' death. He felt like a prisoner and wanted to run away, but the men from the Iron Islands wouldn't have taken him in after he was brought up by my father. So he needed a way to assure their favour when he'd arrive and what better way than killing the young Queen and creating chaos in the Realm.” Sansa said the words, but didn't want to believe them. She already hated Baelish's game, but she could see that his methods had merits. If you expected the worst, you could be prepared for it. “But Theon was like a brother to us. My father never mistreated him. In fact he was treated the same way as Robb.”

“I'm sure you saw it that way.”

When she asked him how to find the murderer of her family and the Hand he said.

“When you don't know the culprit you ask yourself: who profits most?” Baelish said. “If you don't know that much try considering the most likely suspects. Which houses are loyal to you? Which would crush you if they had a chance?”

“The North are my people and they're ruled by my aunt. The Vale is my other aunt's now and they would never kill their liege Lord. The Tullys are my family on my mother's side and killing the King who was married to their own family member wouldn't benefit them in the slightest. The Tyrells are good friends and they sent their daughter to be my father's ward, surely to benefit from having ties to the crown, probably even planning on Robb marrying Margaery. They wouldn't profit from murdering the King. The Baratheons are loyal and Robert didn't want power in the first place. He didn't want to be King and he would kill neither my father nor Jon Arryn. That leaves us with Greyjoys who would gladly see my father dead, but I doubt they would have the means to carry out such an attack in the capital, the Dornish always dissatisfied, but not to the point of murdering people and the Lannisters. Jaime was loyal to my father and is loyal to me, but Cersei hated my father for taking the throne from Robert, not caring that Robert never wanted it in the first place. But how could killing my father benefit her?”

“Doesn't she have a son you could marry?” Baelish asked and Sansa shuddered inwardly. There was a time she had a childhood crush on Joffrey imagining him as some sort of a charming knight from the stories, but it ended soon when she learned how cruel he was when he tried to kill Lady. “It would make him Prince consort and it would elevate her own status. I also wouldn't trust Jaime the way you do. Do you know who was guarding the King that night?”

*** * * * * * ***

That conversation planted some doubts in Sansa's mind. She didn't want to believe that Ser Jaime would betray her father, but Baelish's words rang in her head. Her father used to say that the Lannisters were loyal only to the Lannisters. However, he trusted Jaime enough to keep him as his guard even after he'd killed King Aerys. When Robb had asked about it one day their father explained that the Mad King wanted to burn the whole city and that Ser Jaime was a hero for stopping him form killing thousands of people. No, she wouldn't doubt Ser Jaime and she wouldn't throw accusations Cersei's way without any proof even if Baelish prompted her to.

Sansa was in the the godswood of the Red Keep trying to get some peace and quiet before the funeral that was in a few hours. It was early after dawn and there was no one there as she had hoped. She had to look strong in front of all the people later and at the moment she was anything but strong. Suddenly, the weight on her shoulders became too much and Sansa sank to her knees under the great oak tree. It was only because she gripped Lady's neck that she didn't fall completely. She felt tears run down her cheeks and she buried her face in the direwolf's fur sobbing quietly.

“Nothing was ever accomplished with tears.” Came a sudden voice from behind her.

*** * * * * * ***

Tywin had come to the capital prepared to be asked to fulfil some foolish young girl's wishes and knew that it would be expected that he accept her every whim as law. He was prepared to deal with that. He was prepared to deal with his disappointing son-in-law, his ever dissatisfied daughter and his glory-loving son. He was even prepared to deal with his oldest grandson's mad outbursts. What he wasn't prepared for was this girl, the new Queen. Tywin watched her at court after his arrival. He was expecting a spoiled brat using the courtiers for her own amusement. He wasn't prepared to see this incredibly young girl actually trying to learn how to govern the Realm. And yet there she was. Tywin could see that she wore a mask at court, but he doubted many people could. Her subjects saw the strong though young Queen they needed, supported by her temporary Regent. He could see that underneath she was a fragile girl who had a very heavy burden thrust upon her shoulders. He could see that she was tired by her duties, but he knew that she wasn't the weak girl under the mask nor the strong Queen most people saw. No, Sansa Stark was a part of both and he would lie if he said it didn't impress him.

When he was Hand to Aerys, Tywin would often come to the godswood to find quiet and solitude. It was usually empty and his steps carried him there this time too. Since Ned Stark became King the place was frequented more often as the Northmen kept the old gods, but at this early hour there was no one in sight. Suddenly he heard a small sob coming from the direction in which the heart tree grew. He went forward and saw the girl-Queen on her knees with her hands around her direwolf's neck. The beast noticed him and bared it's teeth, but the Queen was still oblivious of his presence. He stopped at a safe distance not to test the animal's attitude towards lions.

“Nothing was ever accomplished with tears.” He told her.

The girl was startled at first, but she regained her composure in an instant. A quickly produced handkerchief helped her get rid of the tear trails and in a few seconds she was already standing straight in front of him. She was tall for her age, but he still towered over her. However, it didn't deter her. Most people he knew cowered under his gaze. Even the Kings he knew. But not this girl. She stood tall and looked him in the eyes daring him to mock her for her moment of weakness.

*** * * * * * ***

If she was startled by his unexpected appearance it was soon replaced by anger. Didn't he realise that she was the Queen? Who was he to scold her like a small child? She hadn't met him before, but she knew very well who he was. The Great Lion of Lannister was famous enough that there could be no mistaking him. Knowing who he was she knew that he also knew who she was. And saying she was the Queen would only make her look even weaker in his eyes. So Sansa straightened her back and replied.

“My family has been taken from me and you expect me not to shed any tears for them? Even when I'm alone? What kind of daughter would that make me? And you are intruding upon my privacy, Lord Lannister.”

*** * * * * * ***

If that insolent girl thought she could put him under her heel, she was sorely mistaken. Tywin felt his ire rising, but then something in the expression on her face stopped him. She wasn't trying to provoke him. She was desperately trying to keep her head above the ocean of sorrow that wanted to swallow her. Tywin was a man who didn't tolerate weakness, but he suspected that in reality this young girl was anything but weak.

“Yes, a part of your family is dead.” He said. His words were cruel, but he intended them as such. If she wavered under them, she'd deserve it. “Your father is dead. Your mother is dead. Your brother is dead. Before long you'll be dead. And your sister and your brothers and all of your and their children. All of us dead, all of us rotting in the ground. It's the family name that lives on. It's all that lives on. Not your personal glory, not your honour, but family. Do you understand? You're blessed to belong to one of the most powerful families in the Kingdoms. You're blessed with a position that few ever possess. And you're blessed with strength. The future of your family will be determined in these next few months. You could establish a dynasty that will last a thousand years. Or you could collapse into nothing, as the Targaryens did. Your family needs you to become the Queen you are meant to be. Not next year. Not tomorrow. Now.” He could see that she was listening carefully to his words and she remained unwavering. “The dead don't need your tears. Honour them by doing your duty well. Honour them by being a person they could be proud of. Honour them by expanding their legacy.”

The girl-Queen made no instant reply, but he knew she was considering his words. Finally she spoke. “Thank you for your wise words, my Lord.” In that moment, looking into her immensely blue eyes Tywin knew that she would shed no more tears for the dead. He also realised that she could become the greatest ruler Westeros had ever seen. And he would be damned if he didn't try to use it to his advantage.

“Please allow me to escort you back, Your Grace.” He said and she didn't even hesitate before accepting his offered hand.


	5. The Wolf Cub and the Great Lion

Arya was restlessly pacing up and down her room. She was supposed to wear a stupid dress to the funeral and she totally hated it. What she hated even more was that Sansa was so good in her role. Arya knew that she could never be such a person. She'd rather give the crown to Rickon than wear it herself. At least her three-year-old brother would enjoy having a new toy. For the first fifteen minutes till he grew bored of it. Arya wouldn't touch the damned metal object with a stick let alone her hands. No, Arya didn't hate her sister, not really. She knew Sansa was proud sometimes and that she was usually no fun, but Arya didn't hate her. What she hated was the expectation that she would be the same. She just couldn't. She was worse in classes unless they concerned history because she loved history, but everything else was a nightmare. And where Arya failed, Sansa excelled. Her sister could count, talk and write properly in different languages, she knew her economics and the laws. Princess perfect knew everything. Well... Queen perfect to be precise. And Arya? Arya could use a bow better than many grown up men. She could yield her wooden practice sword perfectly. She learned water dancing better than anyone. She could ride a horse better than Sansa who was two years older. She could move quietly through the corridors of the Red Keep overlooked by everyone due to her usually unkempt looks. What hurt even more was that Arya hardly had any friends. Robb and Theon used to make fun of her because of her boyish behaviour. Sansa, Daenerys and Margaery ignored her because she wasn't interested in the things they considered entertaining. Bran didn't like her because she was better than he was in archery and fighting and as much as she loved Rickon, he wasn't a companion for her. She kept away from uncle Robert's children because their mother didn't want her bad influence to taint them. Besides, Joffrey was malicious anyway, fortunately she was strong and fast enough to either defend herself or flee. All Myrcella wanted was to be like Sansa and Tommen was on Bran's side. The only people in the castle that didn't ignore her were her father and her dancing master. But they were too old to be friends with her. Her only true friends were Nymeria and Jon, but he rarely visited the capital.

So Arya filled her days with wandering all over the Red Keep, discovering every secret she could, breaking into places she most certainly wasn't allowed to frequent and spying on people. She was usually dressed up as a boy and pretended to be someone else than Princess Arya. She would also go around following knights pretending to be one of them. She would often pretend to be her father's eighth Kingsguard. Everyday she also took Nymeria for long walks though, as it prevented her from going unnoticed, she preferred the earliest hours of the morning or the latest hours in the night.

“What are we going to do today, girl?” She asked her direwolf.

There were still a few hours till the funeral and she wouldn't put the dress on till the last fifteen minutes before. She had already been out for a walk with her direwolf who didn't seem interested in anything but sleeping after breakfast so Arya let her be. She looked out of the window just in time to see a curious scene outside. Her sister was walking in the godswood with a stranger and her guards weren't around. What if he wanted to harm her? Arya cursed with a word that she'd learned in the stables and that would probably have earned her a long lecture form her parents if they could hear her use it. She put on the clothes that helped her pass as a boy servant and went on to investigate slipping a sharp knife borrowed from the kitchens inside her high shoe.

She walked down to the entrance just in time to see the pair approaching. This time Ser Loras was following them at least. Probably her sister had told him to wait outside the godswood. Arya was glad it was Loras because he was less likely to report her presence even if he spotted her following them. The man accompanying Sansa was tall and lean. He was old, but he wasn't fat like uncle Robert. He looked ready to kill and Arya knew instantly that he was a warrior. The top of his head was bold and the remaining hair was golden sprinkled with silver. His very presence screamed authority. Arya had heard enough stories to recognise the Great Lion and she slid further back into the shadow in which she was hiding. When they passed her she waited for some time and then followed at a safe distance. She didn't have to be very close because she could guess that he was escorting Sansa to her chambers. The really hard task would be to follow him after they'd parted. Arya chose a secret passageway that would let her appear almost in front of Sansa's chambers. Since it was a shortcut she had to wait for some time till they came. She heard them saying goodbyes and then followed the man stealthily. He was cautious as if he'd sensed her, but she was careful enough not to let him see her. Suddenly the sound of his footsteps came to a halt behind a corner and she carefully peaked out from around it only to come face to face with his guard.

“What are you doing here? Kneel! Kneel or I'll carve your lungs out, boy.” The guard shouted at her. But he wasn't allowed to carry out his threat.

“He'll do no such thing.” Said a calm commanding voice and Arya realised it belonged to Lord Lannister who was suddenly looking at her with his measuring glance. “This one's a girl, you idiot, dressed as a boy. Why?”

Arya didn't know what to say, but the success of her mission was conditional on this talk. “Safer to walk around, my lord.” 

“Smart.” The man complimented her, but somehow it sounded like a threat. “More than I can say for this lot. Why are you here?”

She wasn't sure if it could work, but she had to try and there was no better way of infiltrating places where nobles lived than posing as a servant. Most nobles paid no attention to servants as if they were an invisible commodity that made their lives more comfortable, but nothing else. Arya didn't see why this Lord should be any different. “I was sent to be your cup-bearer.” She didn't know if he didn't already have a cup-bearer, but it was the first thing that had crossed her mind. Surprisingly, it worked and she found herself in his chamber.

The Lord sat down at his desk and she got herself busy while simultaneously trying to asses him. The way he handled the guard was interesting, but it didn't say much. She took care of the fireplace and kept his goblet full. For a Lord who could indulge in whatever he wanted, he didn't drink a lot of wine. At some point he even told her to pour water. It was something her father would often do. Yes, at feasts he drank wine, but while he was working he drank mainly water. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and a guard came in announcing a visitor.

“Lord Petyr Baelish.”

All blood in Arya's veins turned to ice. She didn't know what would happen if Baelish recognised her. But her chances of getting to know more about this man who had his claws in her sister not an hour before would be ruined if Baelish told him who she was. She hoped the guest would be dismissed instantly, but it wasn't to be. Lord Lannister offered him wine! Trying as hard as she could not to face the newcomer head on she put a cup in front of him and poured the wine. She didn't even hear what they were talking about, so loud was the thumping of her heart in her chest. Fortunately their meeting didn't last long and... was that a look of disgust on the Lord's face when Baelish left? It was there only for a moment, but it meant so much to her. Arya never liked Baelish. He was slimy and the way he looked at both her mother and her sister was creepy. Knowing that this man distrusted Baelish too somehow put her at ease. If he were really to become her sister's Hand, Arya already guessed that it was his goal, then at least he'd protect Sansa from Baelish's intrigues. But was he worth that position?

“Do you know what legacy means, girl?” He asked her suddenly raising his head from over his documents and looking her straight in the eyes. She remembered to pose as a commoner and shook her head in reply to his question. “It's what you pass down to your children and your children's children. It's what remains of you when you're gone.” He explained, but she got the feeling that had he been alone he'd have talked to himself about it. She was just a servant in his eyes, not a partner for conversations. He stood up and walked to the window looking out and facing away from her. Still she listened carefully. “Harren the Black thought Harrenhal would be his legacy. The greatest fortress ever built. The tallest towers, the strongest walls. The Great Hall had 35 hearths. Thirty-five. Can you imagine?” He asked, but didn't wait for her answer. “It's a blasted ruin now. Do you know what happened?”

“Dragons?” She couldn't leave this question unanswered. Every person in Westeros knew this.

“Yes. Dragons happened.” Lord Lannister sat down and shifted his focus to her. “Harrenhal was built to withstand an attack from the land. A million men could have marched on those walls, and a million men would have been repelled. But not an attack from the air with dragon fire. Harren and all his sons roasted alive within their walls. Aegon Targaryen changed the rules. That's why every child alive still knows his name.”

Arya couldn't help herself and interrupted him. “Aegon and his sisters.” He looked at her with curiosity as if he hadn't known she'd been there. He clearly wasn't used to his servants interrupting him. His eyes now prompted her to continue. “It wasn't just Aegon riding his dragon. It was Rhaenys and Visenya, too.”

“Correct.” He said, but if he was surprised by her knowledge, he was good at hiding it. “A student of history, are you?”

Instead of replying Arya carried on. “Rhaenys rode Meraxes. Visenya rode Vhagar. Visenya Targaryen was a great warrior. She had a Valyrian steel sword she called Dark Sister.”

“She's a heroine of yours, I take it? Aren't most girls more interested in the pretty maidens from the songs? Jonquil with the flowers in her hair?” Arya realised that she'd said too much. He was testing her, but she'd gone so far and couldn't back out now. 

“Most girls are idiots.” She replied.

To her surprise there was a slight look of amusement in his eyes. “You remind me of my daughter. Where did you learn all this stuff about Visenya and her Valyrian steel sword?”

Arya had to be very careful. “From my father.”

“He must have been quite a man.” The Lion commented, but fortunately didn't ask for more details.

“He was, my Lord.”

“M'lord.” He said and when she looked at him clearly not knowing what he was saying he continued. “Low-born girls say m'lord, not my lord. If you're going to pose as a commoner, you should do it properly.” He knew! But she wasn't going to admit it out loud.

Yes, she was afraid that he'd seen through her persona, but managed to keep the emotions away from her face. “My mother served in the castle for many years, my lord. She taught me how to speak proper... Properly.”

He almost smiled at her feeble attempt at maintaining her charade, but surprisingly enough he wasn't angry at her. “You're too smart for your own good. Has anyone told you that?”

“Yes.” It was all Arya could say.

“I'm sure you have somewhere to be, girl. Go on.”

She slipped through his door and ran into the shadows. Her heart was beating fast again. She had entered the Lion's den and he allowed her to leave unscathed! For the moment she was safe, but he didn't know her identity. He'd guessed she wasn't a commoner, but what would happen when he learned who she was? At least she'd learned important things about him. Maybe this short meeting wasn't enough for her to know his whole character, but it gave her a measure of him. And more importantly, it gave her an idea of how Sansa could manipulate the Great Lion.


	6. The Funeral and the Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is later than usually. I can't promise to post daily and I can't promise to post at the same time each day. This one was hard because I felt bad yesterday. I felt bad because I have, however unintentionally, offended Tommyginger.
> 
> If you are reading this, Tommyginger, I want you to know how sorry I am. I truly didn't want to offend you and I feel like shit for having done it. I sometimes say things off the top of my head without thinking them through thoroughly. It's not an excuse, it's a fact. And my friends know me well enough to know that I mean no offence or to forgive me when I overdo it. As we are strangers I should have been more careful with my words and I'm really sorry that I wasn't.

Lord Tywin allowed for a small smile to appear on his face after the girl had left. He'd first felt someone else's presence when he'd walked into the Maegor's Holdfast with the Queen. That unmistakable feeling of being watched by someone. However, he was experienced enough not to let the spy know that he was aware of their presence. After all there was always someone watching within these walls. He got more curious when he felt the spy following him even after the Queen was already in her chambers. So the spy was sent after him. He still pretended not to know about them and to admit the truth this spy was good at their job. Maybe it was an assassin? Tywin secretly checked if his knife was easily accessible, but continued to walk on. Finally he reached his chambers and he met the girl. She was clever, but she didn't know that he already had a servant, a loyal one whose loyalty couldn't be bought. When he saw her he'd thought her one of Varys' little birds, but the Spider would have informed his spy better. Intrigued enough to investigate it further he allowed her to enter his chambers. She wasn't clueless as to what servants did and she started working immediately. He did some work of his own while watching her closely at the same time. It was a good thing that he did for otherwise he'd have missed the subtle change in her demeanour when Baelish was announced. The girl seemed to have stiffened hearing Littlefinger's name. A curious reaction indeed. Tywin then offered his guest wine only to watch the girl try to avoid being noticed by him. It was clear that Baelish knew who the girl really was, but the man himself was clueless. Ha! And Littlefinger thought himself so clever. Still Tywin's conversation with the man was of no importance and he'd already outlived his use for the moment, so Tywin dismissed the disgusting man quickly. He started talking to the girl and to his astonishment he even enjoyed it. He already suspected she was no commoner, but it was the look on her face when she said the word father that let him know without a doubt who she was. The change in her facial expression was only momentary. Had he not been looking for it, he wouldn't have seen it. Lord Tywin Lannister had to recognise the fact that he'd been impressed by not one but two Stark children in the same day. This blasted girl was the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, but she could pass as a low-born servant. Moreover, she didn't find it demeaning to serve someone like most noble ladies would. Had he not known from the beginning that she was lying, he might have believed in her act. As it was he sent her away, but his mind was already working on learning more about this girl. Another thing he needed to consider was her reasons for spying on him. He already knew she wasn't one of Varys' or Baelish's spies even before he knew that she was the Princess. So had her sister sent her? No. The Queen wouldn't have had the time to do it after they'd met. That meant the girl had probably been here of her own volition. That raised more questions, but it also created some opportunities.

*** * * * * * ***

While he was riding through the city, Tywin noticed that the streets were full of mourning people. The heart of the Great Sept was already filled with numerous noble lords and ladies when he arrived, but he had no problem walking through to the first row of attendees. The people simply disappeared from his path as he walked. He settled for a position that was almost the closest to the five bodies on their marble biers. Closer than him was only Lord Hoster with his son Edmure and at the other side of the aisle Lady Lysa and her son Robert. The late Lord Arryn's widow looked as if she were already dead herself. There were other prominent guests in the Great Sept. Every noble who could get to the capital on such a short notice was here to say the last farewell to their beloved king. Or to plot after his death more like. Tywin's eyes met the eyes of Lady Olenna Tyrell and he inched his head forward the slightest way possible to greet her. She replied with a smile as small as his nod. They were rivals, but Tywin recognised great people when he met them and as much as he didn't like it the Queen of Thorns was one of them. Her almost whole family was with her except for Ser Loras who was in the Queensguard and her granddaughter, but Tywin knew that as a ward of the Crown she'd be arriving with the Queen. The two younger Baratheon brothers were also in the first row. The oldest was missing, but Tywin guessed he too would be arriving with the Starks as he was Regent for the time being. Other members of the small council were there too. Tywin saw his daughter with her children and noticed with distaste that Joffrey was wearing the most flashy colours imaginable. He would have to talk some sense into the foolish lad. His name could be Baratheon, but he was half Lion and Lannisters didn't act like fools. Except for one. His son Tyrion was also present, but he was visibly drunk as always. Tywin felt the constant anger at his youngest offspring, which he carried inside all the time, flare up. He would have a word with Tyrion too.

Tywin's attention shifted to the High Septon who entered the heart of the Sept with seven of the Most Devout in tow. There she was behind them. The Queen walked next to her Regent. She seemed taller and older wearing a gown in black. Her face was solemn, but he noticed not without some satisfaction that she didn't cry. They were followed by the other Stark children, the two Crown's wards and the whole Queensguard in their golden armours and white cloaks. Sure enough there among the Stark children was the other girl he'd met. Princess Arya Stark looked completely different from the girl that was in his chambers a few hours back. He could see that she didn't like her role of the Princess, but she could excel in it if she tried. The royal procession walked inside and the participants knelt when they passed by. They came to a halt in front of the bodies and knelt. The seven septons started the morning service, but Tywin paid them no heed. His focus was on the royal family. The youngest boy was crying openly and the Queen hugged him close to her. The older brother looked disturbed and silent tears were running down his cheeks, but he knew how to behave. Princess Arya was silent, but he knew she would not cry. She had a soul of a warrior and Tywin was sure that she'd rather fight the Stranger himself than weep. The two wards of the late King Ned knelt on both sides of the Queen slightly behind her as if trying to comfort her and share their strength with her. Both were sincerely grieving the man who was like a father to them. Tywin had never thought he'd see a Targaryen weeping for a king who usurped their family's power, but it was happening in front of his eyes. Moreover, his son-in-law was kneeling next to her though his aversion towards all Targaryens was well known. It was the funeral that had brought them all together, but it was Queen Sansa who truly united them all. Seventy seven septas began singing for Mother's mercy. Though the Starks came from the North, the funeral was carried in the faith of the Seven. When Eddard Stark became King he also became the first Stark of the Crownlands and as King he had to accept the Seven. It was also agreed that they would be buried here as they were no longer Starks of Winterfell. Lady Arryn was to escort her husband's body to the Vale. When the service was over the royal procession went to the Hall of Lamps where they accepted condolences. Tywin approached the Queen and kissed her hand.

“It's a sad day, Your Grace. But your strength will see the Realm past it.” It was all he said to her, but she understood that he had paid her a compliment.

She thanked him and he moved towards the Princess Arya who seemed to shrink in size as he approached her. Still she maintained her trained pose. He was about to kiss her hand too, but he changed his mind half through it and extended his hand to shake hers like he would any noble man he was condoling with. He could see that she was surprised, but that she also appreciated his gesture.

“The hour is dark, but your sister will help the Realm through it, Princess Arya.” Tywin stressed the words 'dark' and 'sister'. The girl's eyes widened for a moment, but she managed to keep her composure.

As the grey eyes met the green ones a silence pact was made. Tywin knew that this girl would do anything to protect her sister and with that one glance she promised him that no matter the cost she'd see him dead if he ever hurt Sansa. And strangely enough Tywin knew that she really would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Tommyginger, I'm really sorry.


	7. Schemes and Lemon Cakes

Ser Barristan helped Sansa get on her horse. She could have chosen to ride in the litter, but she wanted to see the people. Yes, a part of it was that she needed to be seen by her subjects. They had to see that she was strong, that she was mourning their beloved king with them. But strangely enough Sansa had discovered that as much as they needed to see her being strong, she could draw a part of that strength from them. From seeing how much they had loved her parents and brother. From seeing that they extended that love to her. From seeing how they supported her. Daenerys and Margaery rode with her and surprisingly so did Arya. True, her sister was a far better rider than herself, but she hated being in public and didn't like to ride dressed in official clothes. Moreover, Sansa was aware that their relationship wasn't crystal. Arya was younger and she was very wild. She didn't like to play like Sansa did, she wasn't interested in the same things, so their mutual interactions were limited. Additionally, Sansa had Daenerys and Margaery to play and spend time with, so she didn't seek out her sister's company. She hadn't even tried to find a common ground with Arya. Sansa vowed to herself that she would do her best to mend things between them.

As they rode through the city they were greeted by her subjects. There were no happy cheers, it was no occasion for such things, but many hands were raised and heads bowed as they passed by. Sometimes someone called out a blessing for her or Arya.

*** * * * * * ***

The Great Hall was decorated suitably for the occasion, nothing flashy or exaggerated, but stylish and toned down. There was a band of musicians playing doleful music. When the royal family entered all conversations died down. Sansa took her place and people started lining up to once again convey their condolences. Sansa was sure some of them were true. However, most of the people came to see the new Queen, measure her and try to gain something. She had to listen to lords and ladies who tried to console her and were asking for favours with the same breath. Sansa listened with patience, but rarely replied with anything more than a 'thank you'. Food and wine were brought in and Robert proposed a toast for the dead.

“May the father judge them justly.” He said and all the guests repeated his words. Sansa raised her goblet and was about to drink when a voice stopped her.

“Your Grace, please allow me to taste your wine first.” It was a servant Sansa had never seen before and she was about to refuse such a proposition when its true meaning hit her. Whoever had sent this girl wanted to prevent Sansa from being poisoned like her family had been. She was mortified for a moment. This girl was offering to die for her with such calmness in her voice as if she was offering to brush her hair.

Sansa passed the goblet to the girl. “Thank you.”

“It's an honour for me to serve you, Your Grace.” The girl replied and fell silent. Sansa would remember to reward her commitment accordingly. She would also like to know who had been so thoughtful as to have sent the girl.

Sansa didn't have the appetite to eat anything. Not when she thought the girl would try anything Sansa was going to eat. She knew that she couldn't keep avoiding it forever, but at her family's funeral the thought of someone dying for her was a daunting one. She knew that as Queen she wouldn't be able to avoid it. Sooner or later there would be lives lost and they would all be on her head. Still it didn't mean she should or would ever like it.

Sansa was then approached by Lord Baelish. He walked closer than the others not standing in front of her at the other side of the table, but approaching her side. She felt slightly uncomfortable, but dismissed the feeling. After all he was her mother's friend and Sansa knew him well.

"I know it must be hard for you, but you should know that you always have a friend in me, Your Grace." He leaned even closer and whispered in her ear. "Sansa, you know that I had always been your mother's friend. I would do anything to help you carry the heavy burden that was so suddenly put on your shoulders. Anything, Sansa." 

She couldn't believe it. She had considered him a friend, but here he was trying to ingratiate himself like all the others. He was outright asking to be her Hand! And using her feelings towards her mother too! "Thank you, Lord Baelish." She said. Her voice was cold like the North her family came from and she stressed his title to remind him that he should address her properly.

Baelish flinched as if she'd slapped him. "Your Grace." He said bowing his head and he left quickly.

The next person that approached her also walked to her side of the table, but he kept his distance. In his case it was an understandable behaviour for if he'd approached form the other side he would barely be visible over the high table. Though Sansa had never met him, he had to be Tyrion Lannister. The one they called the Imp.

“My Queen, I'm sorry for your loss.” He said and it was the sincerest thing she had heard during the feast. “I see that you haven't eaten, Your Grace. I had hoped that my friend would have reduced your fear of being poisoned.” He glanced towards the servant that stood behind her. So it had been him to have sent the girl.

“You mean to ease my worries by making another person sacrifice their life for mine, Lord Tyrion?” She wasn't angry at him, but that wasn't the kind of consolation she was seeking.

“If it please Your Grace, I shall be the one to taste your food and drink then. It would be a small loss if I died.” So he was allowed to make dwarf jokes? She wasn't amused. “I've brought you lemon cakes. They are supposed to be your favourite.”

“How did you know, my Lord?” She asked him. It wasn't common knowledge. After all even if she liked them very much her mother had never allowed her to have more than a few.

“That's what I do. I drink and I know things, Your Grace.” He showed her the box and opened it for her. “Please choose one and give it to me, Your Grace.” When she did he ate it at once. “See. No poison. Many people in your kingdom would gladly die to see you safe. That girl will serve you for five years and if she survives, she'll have enough money to live a good life and even leave something to her children. If she dies in your service her family will get the money. That's the understanding she and I have and she agreed to it of her own free will. After those five years I shall hire you another taster. Unless of course you want me to take that position, Your Grace.”

She smiled slightly, took one cake and tried it. It tasted heavenly and was better than anything she had ever eaten. “Thank you, Lord Tyrion.” So it would happen then. He would ask a favour of her for having pleased her with his gift.

Surprisingly though he didn't. He bowed his head and left her totally astounded. “Thank you.” She said once again and it was the sincerest 'thank you' she'd said during the feast.


	8. A Boy Who Wouldn't Be King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to post every day, but this week had been a pandemonium.
> 
> Also it's not easy to write a character who you'd like to murder asap, but you know they're useful.

Arriving at the Great Hall Tywin spotted Joffrey in his flashy clothes. He walked over to him and hissed.

“A word, grandson.” 

He walked out of the Great Hall not sparing the boy a second glance. There weren't many people who would dare to refuse an order he'd issued in this tone and as unruly as the boy was he wasn't one of them. Sure enough when he'd turned around in a side corridor Joffrey was right behind him.

“You will go to your chamber immediately and you will change into something befitting the occasion.” He said in his quiet tone that forced those who were listening to him to be careful not to miss any word he said.

Joffrey protested. “I am dressed for the occasion. Mother always says it should have been my father to take the Iron Throne. Then I would have been the Crown Prince and believe me, grandfather, I wouldn't have gotten myself poisoned like the Starks. When all the Starks are finally dead, father can fulfil his destiny that he squandered fourteen years ago.”

Tywin felt his ire rising.

“You will be silent, foolish lad!” Seriously how stupid could the boy be? And how could his daughter have allowed for her son to grow up like this? Why would she speak of such treasonous things in front of a boy who was too stupid to keep his mouth shut? “What you say is high treason. If I weren't your grandfather you would have already be on your way to a black cell. The castle is full of speculation on who had poisoned the royal family and the Hand and you go around spurting such nonsense? You should be out there comforting the Queen and offering her your help! Have you never thought that marrying into the royal family might be a good idea? Even back when she was only the Princess she would have been an eligible match, but now? Now she is the most desirable party in the Seven Kingdoms and you go around in your foolish clothes offending her on the day of her family's funeral? Have you no sense at all?”

Tywin could see that Joffrey was seething for having been reprimanded for his behaviour, but at least the boy had enough sense to be quiet.

“You will go to your room and change your clothes. Then you will go to the Queen and tell her how sorry you are for her loss. And you will never repeat your treasonous words again. Is that understood?” The boy nodded meekly too angry to speak, but Tywin wasn't satisfied with that. “Answer me, boy. Has your mother taught you nothing? Are you suddenly too shy to speak for yourself?”

Tywin could see that the boy was furious and he'd lie if he said it hadn't been his intention. Joffrey could rage all he wanted and Tywin would remain unmoved. Finally, the boy answered.

“I understand, grandfather.” He was still furious, but Tywin knew the boy would do as he was bid. At least at the moment. Later... who knew? Tywin would have to talk to Cersei.

“See that he does.” Tywin commanded his guard.

*** * * * * * ***

Tyrion smiled when he left the Queen. He heard that she'd been shocked when she'd realised he wouldn't ask a favour of her. She was expecting nothing good on this day and seeing her smile he knew his actions were greatly appreciated. In truth Tyrion didn't want anything from her. He was already the son of the wealthiest man in all the Realm, he had more money than he could possibly spend on wine and companions. He wasn't looking for a wife or a position at court. Most of the people in the Great Hall saw a Queen who could grant them riches, power and titles. Tyrion knew she was a sad girl who'd lost her family. Sure, it wasn't all she was, but it was inevitably a part of her. So he'd prepared himself to console a girl who'd lost her parents in a form suitable for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Having accomplished his self-imposed task Tyrion went out of the Great Hall only to meet his nephew coming back to the room. At least he wasn't wearing the same flashy clothes as before. He was accompanied by one of Tywin's guards, a huge man with burn scars on his face.

“My dearest nephew!” Tyrion exclaimed, slurring his speech to appear more drunk than he actually was. “I see you've acquired a sense of propriety!”

“Like you're the one to talk.” Joffrey replied angry as ever. “Now get out of my way. I'm going for a ride.”

Tyrion stood unmoving. “Before you go, you will call on the Queen and her family and offer your sympathies.” He stated calmly.

“What good will my sympathies do them?” Joffrey replied making sure his voice was mocking.

“None.” Tyrion replied. It was after all the truth. “But it is expected of you. Your absence has already been noted.”

“Their deaths mean nothing to me. And I can't stand the wailing of women.” With a loud slap Tyrion's hand connected with the boy's cheek.

“One word and I'll hit you again.” He said.

“I'm telling Mother!” Joffrey yelled and Tyrion slapped him again. 

“Go! Tell her. But first you will get to the Queen and her family and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are, that you are at their service, and that all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?” Tyrion explained calmly and slowly as if the boy was dim-witted. He was having a lot of fun with Joffrey this day and the lad deserved it for having dressed like he had for the morning service.

“You can't...” Joffrey protested again and sure enough Tyrion slapped him again.

“Do you understand?” He repeated his question slowly.

Joffrey stalked off without another word, but he did walk in the direction of the Great Hall.

“He will remember that, little Lord.” Said the guard who was with the boy.

“I hope so. If he forgets, be a good dog and remind him.” With that Tyrion turned his back on the boy and the guard and walked away.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa felt a bit better after meeting Tyrion Lannister. His behaviour was as pleasant as it was surprising. She had heard about him, but the things she'd heard weren't favourable and though she didn't judge people solely on the accounts of others, it was good to see someone who was so different from what people said about him. She was also almost sure that he pretended to be more drunk than he really was. He didn't seem drunk when they were talking and when he walked it seemed somewhat artificial. Sansa had seen Robert being drunk enough times to be able to tell the difference. But why had he been so selflessly kind to her? Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he would ask for a favour later. She couldn't be sure, but she didn't think he would. There was something so open and artless in the manner he'd addressed her. He was courteous, yes, but not overly so and he seemed genuinely kind. He intrigued her. So did his father. Lord Tywin was cold and stern, but he was also imposing and she couldn't help admiring him. His way of approaching her was completely different from his son's. He was anything but kind. He might even seem cruel. And yet. His methods were effective and his words were wise.

Suddenly there was another Lannister blond mane in front of her. This one, however, belonged to Joffrey Baratheon. She noticed that he'd changed into clothes that were more appropriate for the occasion. Sansa had noticed the way he'd looked earlier, but she'd dismissed it as his usual maliciousness and rudeness. He approached her slowly with a smile on his face that was too sweet to be sincere.

“Queen Sansa!” He exclaimed loudly and the Great Hall fell silent. Addressing her this way was rude in its own right, but doing it in front of all the courtiers and numerous lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms was low even for Joffrey.

“I believe you should retire for today, my lord.” She said calmly. Sansa wasn't about to be moved by this boy's stupidity.

“I am not your lord. If it had been you and me in the throne room fourteen years ago, you wouldn't be sitting on the Iron Throne today.” Joffrey said loudly. Sansa wasn't surprised. Joffrey had never been subtle and now he also seemed drunk. However, when he continued she was shocked. “You're a savage daughter of a barbarian King from the North. You don't deserve that seat.”

Sansa slowly stood up and when she did everyone in the room did as well. She was normally taller than Joffrey, but she was also standing on an elevated platform on which the royal high table was situated, so she towered over him.

“I care little about the insults you've dealt me as they are petty words of an ever miserable boy. You will not, however, stand in front of me and insult my father, your late King.”

“Your Grace, please forgive him.” Asked Robert. “He's but a foolish boy and I'll see that he's disciplined.”

Sansa raised her hand and Robert fell silent. Joffrey looked like he was suddenly aware that he might have said too much this time. Sansa was furious inside, but her outside was calm and collected. “For the high regard I have for you, Lord Robert, I will not have your son publicly whipped. He will, however, be confined to his chambers for a week. And with no access to any alcohol since it seems he's still too young for that.” She said to Robert, totally disregarding Joffrey who was glaring daggers of hate at her. “Guards!” She called lightly and instructed the two men who came. “See the lord to his room. Make sure he has no access to alcohol and that he doesn't leave.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” They answered, bowed their heads and dragged Joffrey out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and to all Sandor's fans. Please don't worry. That's not the whole part he has in the story.


	9. Deciding the Fawn-Cub's Fate

There was a knock on the door of Tywin's chamber. He knew it was either his daughter whom he had summoned or the servant whom he had sent for her come to tell him she wouldn't. Cersei was bold enough to refuse his summon, but for her sake he hoped she had not.

“Come in.” He said.

It was his daughter who came in. He gestured for her to sit and continued to read and write his letters. From the edges of his field of view he could see that she was restless in her seat, but she didn't dare speak before him. Tywin had her wait a few more minutes before he spoke.

“Do you know what your son did today?” Tywin asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. “He walked right in front of the Queen and told her she was a savage from the North and that she didn't deserve to be Queen. Do you have any idea where he might have gotten such preposterous notions from?” He asked her. His tone was conversational, but his gaze was stern.

“They are true! It should have been Robert to sit on the Iron Throne.” Cersei exclaimed.

“Alas, it wasn't. You should stop living in the past.” Tywin said.

“How could I? You sold me to him like some broodmare. I was supposed to be Queen, but you were wrong. You miscalculated. How could you?”

Tywin remembered those days well. It was true that he had hoped it would have been Robert who would become the King. When he had learnt that Robert, Ned and Rhaegar had made an alliance to dethrone the Mad King he had hoped that Robert would be too ambitious and his pride too wounded to allow another Targaryen on the Iron Throne. Sure in normal circumstances Robert would have nothing to say about who became the next King, but this situation had been different. Tywin had hoped that Robert would become the King, so he proposed a marriage between his daughter and the heir of Stormlands to show his support for their cause while simultaneously posing as Aerys' friend to gain access to King's Landing. Things hadn't worked like Tywin had planned. There were too many factors. Still his daughter could have done better.

“So you didn't become the Queen. You became the wife of the third most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. Your husband was the closest friend the late King had. Had you learnt to manipulate your husband, you could have manipulated the King almost as easily, but no. You have to go around complaining and spurting nonsense. You made your husband a stranger to yourself and you've made the royal family your enemies. And now you're teaching your son to do the same?”

“Perhaps you should try stopping him from doing what he likes.”

“I will. Now your husband is the Regent. Temporarily, but he is. He has influence on the girl-Queen. How easy it could be to betroth Joffrey to the Queen if only Joffrey knew how to behave? But you haven't taught him to behave. You haven't taught him to be clever. You've allowed him to grow up as a stag instead of a lion.”

“My son is nothing like Robert!”

“Oh but he is. He behaves the same way. He does what he wants. Robert was the same, that's why I thought he would become the King. But he had his friend to reign him in. Joffrey has no one like that so he runs around like the rampant stag from your husband's coat of arms. And you support him in doing so.” His stern gaze was on her again. “My daughter, you've disgraced the Lannister name for far too long.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked him. She sounded defeated and Tywin thought she deserved it.

“I will try to repair the damage you and your son have done. I will speak with the Queen.” He said calmly. “You should try to take care of your marriage. I know it's late. I know you've wasted a lot of time and opportunities, but you might still have a chance.”

“I never had any chance. He called me Lyanna on our wedding night. That was when all my chances have vanished.”

“Only because you never tried. You gave up right at the start. She left him and he was heartbroken. You were supposed to help him forget.” Tywin knew Robert wasn't blameless, but Cersei was supposed to be smarter. “Now go. I have matters to attend to.”

*** * * * * * ***

After the evening service and the funeral Sansa was watching the procession with Jon Arryn's body prepare to leave. Aunt Lysa was going to escort him to the Vale and she was to govern it till their son came of age. Sansa had asked her to come back, but the woman refused claiming she was afraid for young Robert's life. Though Sansa would have preferred to have her aunt close she could understand the need to feel safe. She herself rarely felt safe these days. Maybe some time away from the capital would do her aunt and cousin well. She noticed Lord Lannister among the nobles who watched the ceremony.

“Ser Jaime?” She asked her guard and he leaned closer to listen to her command. “Could you invite your father to join me in my solar after the ceremony?”

“Yes, my Queen.” If Jaime was surprised by her request he didn't show it.

She turned to Robert who was at her side as Regent. He had heard her words. “I will need you too, Lord Robert. We need to talk about Joffrey.”

“But why him, Your Grace?” Robert gestured towards his father-in-law.

“Because Joffrey is also his family and I'm interested to hear his opinion on the matter.” Sansa replied.

“You don't want to get too close to the Old Lion, Your Grace. He's not a pleasant man.” Robert warned her.

“I know. I've met him. He is clever though.” She replied. Robert was astonished, but he didn't relent.

“Joffrey is my son. I should know best how to deal with him.” Robert claimed.

“I'm sorry, but as your friend I have to tell you that it's not true. You were my father's best friend and you're helping me an enormous deal now. Maybe Joffrey is feeling left out because you spend your days with me not him? I am grateful for your help. I don't know what I'd do without it, but your son needs you too. Your other children need you. Your wife needs you. I know you miss my father, but you cannot work yourself to death because you try so hard to forget him. My aunt will arrive soon and you'll be able to take a break. Please, promise me you'll take care of yourself and your family.”

“She needs me? She never needed me. She never wanted me. Cersei hated me from the day Ned became King and she realised she wouldn't become the Queen she wanted to be.”

“I know you think it a lost cause, but you have children together. If not for you then for their sake you should try to make it work. If you don't try, it will not work.”

“It's easy for you to say, Your Grace.” He replied, but clearly without thinking it through.

“You're forgetting who I am. I will not have the freedom to marry for love, no more than you had. I will marry someone who will be a good match for the Realm and I'll have to make the best of it.”

The procession started so they fell silent as they left. The Valemen, the silent sisters, the coffin and finally Lady Arryn, her son and their guards. Lysa chanced one last look at the city and Sansa had a sudden strange thought that her aunt looked extremely guilty.

*** * * * * * ***

Ser Jaime announced his father's arrival when Sansa was reading through the fifth letter that evening.

“Your Grace. Robert.” The man said by the way of greeting. Sansa had to admit that he wasn't a person who wasted many words. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this invite?” He stressed the last word as if indicating he didn't like it. If he was summoned he would rather have it called a summon.

“Lord Lannister, how kind of you to join us.” Sansa replied unmoved by his implication. “And it was an invitation. When I summon you, you will know the difference.” She said it in a serious voice. Too serious. She was becoming more like her mother every day. “I asked you to join us because I would like to seek your counsel on a matter concerning your family. Namely your grandson – Joffrey. What would you do with him?”

“It is quite obvious that the boy needs to be separated from his mother. She hadn't done a good job at bringing him up.” Sansa was astonished how someone could be so impersonal talking about their own children. “Nor did his father.” Robert was about to protest, but the Lion of Casterly Rock stopped him with one glance. “The boy needs a firm hand to help him get on the right path.”

“You can't mean yourself!” Robert's voice was accusatory. “You'd turn my boy into a sly lion.”

“Actually, I didn't mean myself. Far from it. I was thinking about your brother.” Lord Lannister addressed Sansa. “Your Grace, Stannis Baratheon is a stern man, but he will teach the boy well. Moreover, he rules at Storm's End in Lord Robert's stead. It would be good for the boy to get to know the place that will be his to govern in the future.”

Sansa's mind was set to work by those words. She hadn't considered it, but presented that way it seemed like the most logical option. Lord Stannis always wanted a son and his wife gave him one daughter and stillborns. Additionally, the girl had gotten the greyscale. Her father had found a maester to cure it, but it had left scars on her face and neck. Sansa wouldn't want to expose the girl to Joffrey's cruelty, but maybe there was another way.

“Would you agree to have Joffrey fostered at Storm's End? Would your brother agree to take Joffrey as his ward?” Sansa asked Robert.

“Yes. I do think he would. And I do agree.” He said.

“What of Shireen?” She asked forgetting that the men weren't privy to her train of thoughts.

“What of the girl?” Asked Lord Lannister.

“I meant to say that I wouldn't want Joffrey having a chance at tormenting her. I'm sorry to say it, Lord Robert, but you know that's true. I was thinking I could ask Lord Stannis to let her be fostered at court. That way she'd be away from Joffrey and if she were a ward of the Crown, no one would dare insult her for the way she looks. Do you think her father would agree?”

“You would need to convince him, Your Grace, but I think he would.”

“Then it's settled. I will talk with Lord Stannis on the morrow. Thank you for your counsel, my Lords.”

Getting Joffrey away from the court would have one additional benefit. It would lessen the amount of gossip that was probably already flying through town. The gossip that Joffrey murdered the royal family and the Hand.


	10. Discovering Gifts and Building Sisterly Bonds

Bran was running over the roofs of King's Landing. Mother had always told him not to and when he missed her most he felt that maybe if he had listened to her then she'd still be alive. As a rational six-year-old boy he dismissed such notions. He had to prove his mother wrong and maybe then she would be able to smile looking down at him from the Heavens. So he climbed even higher and ran even faster above King's Landing. The city was asleep and there were but a few people on the streets. Usually the gold cloaks patrolling the streets or the homeless who lived there. No one paid Bran any attention. Hardly anyone ever noticed him. It was surprising how rarely people looked up above them. Suddenly he saw a raven. It was strange because those birds rarely lived on their own in the cities. They were kept by the maesters. Maybe this one was hurt. Bran walked closer, but the bird flew over to the next building without even one glance in Bran's direction. Bran followed him. On and on they played. Bran hadn't even noticed when they arrived at the River Gate. The raven he was chasing led him to a place where the buildings were so close to the city walls that Bran could easily climb on top.

When he got up there he could see everything. The Gate, the ground beneath, the harbour, the river and the kingsroad. He shouldn't be able to see the crossroads with the roseroad, but Bran saw it clearly. Then he saw a man approaching on horseback. Bran couldn't understand what was happening. It was as if he suddenly were at the crossroads. The man was as fat as uncle Robert. Maybe even fatter, but Bran could see that his face wasn't reddened from alcohol. He was also young. Bran saw something on the man's neck that caught his attention, but when he tried to look closer the man disappeared and Bran was on top of the River Gate again. The raven was sitting a few meters away from him and watching him curiously. With three eyes.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa woke up early every day. Yes, she was tired and she did go to sleep late, but she just couldn't sleep longer with the amount of work she had, her sense of duty too strong to let her rest longer. This day, however, she had woken up extremely early as was her intention. She dressed up on her own in clothes that were comfortable and plain, put a shawl over her hair, called Lady and Grey Wind to her side and went out of her chamber. Ser Jorah was keeping guard outside and he wanted to follow her, but she stopped him.

“Should anyone ask about me, I am inside and not to be disturbed. Lady and Grey Wind will guard me this morning.” She noticed the look of worry on his face. “Don't worry, Ser Jorah. They are more than capable of protecting me in case anything happened. I won't be long.”

Though reluctantly, he let her go and stood watch in front of her empty chamber. She went to Arya's chamber and knocked lightly on the door. After only a few seconds the door opened a small fraction and Sansa saw her sister's face. Arya was surprised to see her.

“What do you want Sansa?” Her sister asked.

“I thought you might care for some company for your morning walk.” Sansa said.

“Care? No. But you might as well come along since you've worn something normal and left your guards behind. At least Nymeria will have someone to play with.” Arya said.

Sansa thought that she didn't deserve much more. Not with the way things were between them. She was glad to get that much. She was here to try mending things, so she wasn't going to complain.

“Come in.” Said her sister opening the door wider.

Coming in Sansa noticed that Arya held her wooden practice sword in the hand that was earlier hidden behind the door. She also noticed that her sister's chamber was a complete mess, but she knew that commenting on it wouldn't win her any points with Arya, so she remained silent. Lady and Gray Wind trotted towards Nymeria to greet her.

“You can sit down if you want.” Said Arya gesturing towards a chair. “I'll be ready in a minute.”

Sansa remained standing by the door. She watched as her sister prepared for the walk. The clothes she put on must have belonged to some servant. Arya put her hair in a small bun that made her look like a boy and she completed the look with high shoes. The final thing that she took was a long knife she put in the right boot. Sansa was astonished, but she still remained silent.

“I see the way you're looking at me.” Arya said suddenly.

“Sorry, but the knife surprised me that's all.” Sansa replied. “Do you even know how to use it?”

In a few seconds the knife was in Arya's hand again and in a few more it was resting lightly against Sansa's throat.

“I'd say I do, don't you think?” Said Arya without removing the blade. “Though I think I should have done it quicker.” She removed the blade as if nothing had happened and put it back in the boot. “Shall we?”

“Wha... Oh yes, of course.”

Sansa went outside and the two direwolves followed her. Arya went out after her with Nymeria in tow. She locked the door with a key that she had on a chain around her neck. Sansa guessed that was the reason why the chamber was such a mess. If it had been open the servants would have cleaned it up, but as it was locked no one dared or could. Maybe Arya's key was the only one?

“How much time do you have?” Arya asked breaking Sansa's train of thoughts.

“Not much. Sorry. I've got lots of things to do.” Sansa was actually sad to say it, but it was the truth.

“I understand.” Arya said and strangely Sansa believed her to be sincere. “I know you have many duties. I'm glad you came to see me this morning.”

“I wish I could spend more time with you.” Sansa said and she meant it. It was getting awkward though.

“Eeek stop that.” Arya said. She must have had the same feelings. “So you don't have much time. We'll take a short path. And we also could try running a bit.”

Without waiting for Sansa's reply Arya took the lead and began running. Nymeria followed her and so did Lady and Grey Wind. That left Sansa at the end of this little group. She ran behind them. In those last days Sansa had been first in everything. No one dared to sit before she did nor speak unless she spoke nor eat nor drink before her. The few exceptions from it were her family and friends, but even there she could feel that she wasn't treated as she had been before. In this strange pack led by her sister she was the last one and she found that she liked the divergence of it. She was surprised that she had no problem keeping up with Arya until she thought that her sister had set a pace that she was sure Sansa would be able to match. That thought filled her heart with warmth. 

Lost in her thoughts Sansa hadn't paid much attention to the path Arya chose and she realised at some point that she didn't know where they were, but Arya must have known because she didn't hesitate before taking one turn or another. Sansa only knew that they were continously descending. She wouldn't even be surprised if they were no longer above ground level. She was aware that there were vast corridors under the Red Keep, but she had never ventured inside before. It appeared that Arya had. This must have been one of her pastimes. With each step they went deeper inside. At some point Arya stopped in a vast cave. Sansa knew instantly why. The whole space was filled with enormous skulls. Dragon skulles.

“I wanted to show this to you.” Arya said. Her voice was no more than a whisper, reverent and awestruck though she must have been there many times before.

Sansa remained silent for a long while admiring the remains of such grand creatures. Finally she whispered. “Thank you.”

They went out and started their way back up. This time they were walking and Arya waited till Sansa was beside her, the direwolves following them both.

“I happened upon that place one time as I was wandering down here. I go there when I need to think or when I feel sad, angry or upset.” Arya confessed. “Seeing them helps put things in a perspective.”

Sansa understood that sentiment. She had only been there for a short while, but she had felt tiny and insignificant in the presence of mere bones of those amazing creatures. Dragons lived hundreds of years, their strength and power were unparalleled and they were said to be more intelligent than humans even if they were wilder. And yet their skulls lied there long dead, abandoned and forgotten. If such splendid creatures could die and even become extinct then human lives seemed nothing at all.

“It really does, but it won't help me. I have too many questions that need answers now and I cannot expect the skulls to tell me.” Sansa replied.

“No, you can't. But you could ask me.” Arya replied simply. “Just because I'm younger and we're so different doesn't mean I can't be helpful. Maybe different is exactly what you need?”

“Maybe. Alright let's try this. What should I do with Theon?” Sansa asked. She had been asking herself that for a long time and she just couldn't decide. Sooner than later she'd be forced to choose and she had better thought of something by then.

“Fine. I'll admit that's a hard one. Do you have another one or more?” Arya asked.

“Only one that really matters. Who should I name my Hand?” Sansa asked in return.

“It's easy really.” Arya laughed leaving Sansa perplexed. “Why don't you let both dilemmas solve themselves. I'm sure you must have a list of candidates for the position of Hand. Ask each one of them your first question and choose the one who gives you the most satisfying answer.” Arya shrugged. “Anyway if they're not good at their job later you can always appoint a new Hand, but you'll still have your first question answered.”

“If I've known you were so smart I'd have come to you earlier.” Sansa said.

“You're welcome. You should stop trying to do everything on your own. You're the Queen. That means you'll never lack people who'll do your bidding. You just have to learn how to use that wisely.”


	11. Seeking Counsel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see something outrageously wrong in this chapter, I'm blaming it on moonsickness' fever, so please tell me and I'll correct it.

When Lord Stannis was announced to Sansa, she was already dressed like a Queen and she was in her solar responding to a letter. Nothing in her appearance betrayed that she was the girl who had been running beneath the Red Keep not an hour before. Yet Sansa was the same person and she intended to use her sister's advice. Technically, Lord Stannis wasn't on her list. She hardly knew him and she wanted him to take Joffrey away. But if he could surprise her she was ready to reconsider her decision.

Lord Stannis welcomed her with a bow and said. “You wanted to see me, Your Grace.”

“Yes, Lord Stannis, thank you for coming.” She replied.

“There's no need to thank me, Your Grace. You are the Queen and it is my duty to come when you summon me.” He said in a business-like voice.

Sansa thought that this man was a rock. He was an susceptible to courtesy as a piece of stone under her feet. But it was exactly the kind of man she needed to take care of her problem with Joffrey.

“I would like to ask some advice from you. I also have a proposition for you, actually two propositions, but it's not an order and you don't have to agree to it.” She stressed the last part. True, she wanted Joffrey gone, but she wouldn't burden anyone with his presence unless they consented. Lord Stannis only nodded awaiting her next words. “You must have heard what Theon Greyjoy did. What would you have me do with him?”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, you shouldn't need to ask. He committed high treason and his head should have been on a spike on the same day that he tried to murder you and succeeded in murdering the late Grand Maester. He betrayed you and he betrayed your father who had always treated him like a son.”

“Thank you, Lord Stannis.” Sansa said, but her mind wasn't at peace. She couldn't help feeling that killing Theon was wrong. Maybe it was her feelings clouding her judgement, but she couldn't accept such a solution. “As for the other matter I wanted to ask if you'd agree to take your brother's son as your ward?”

“Joffrey.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes, Joffrey.” Sansa answered anyway. “He's becoming a problem. I don't want to be forced to punish him severely, but he's really exaggerating lately. He needs a firm hand to guide him and he needs to be separated from his mother.” She didn't need to say much more. She knew that he was more than aware of the situation, so she switched to her other offer. “Regardless of your decision concerning your nephew, my Lord, I would also like to offer your daughter a place at my court.”

Stannis was silent for a brief moment. Sansa knew that he was considering her propositions and she was glad that he did. Such things shouldn't be decided rashly.

“My daughter will be honoured to join your court, Your Grace. And I agree to take my nephew as my ward.” He answered finally. “Has my brother consented to this plan?”

“He has, my Lord. Thank you for accepting my offers.”

“Your Grace.” Lord Stannis bowed and said nothing more.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa met with Margaery and her grandmother in the gardens. The Queen of Thorns was every bit as Sansa remembered her, but she greeted Sansa like a Queen.

"Your Grace." Said Lady Olenna just a little bit too politely. "It's so good of you to invite me here today.” Then after a brief pause she added sincerely. “I'm very sorry for your losses, Your Grace."

"Please, call me Sansa in private, I'm still the same girl you knew before."

"But you're not, Sansa.” Lady Olenna replied, but at least she used Sansa's name. “You're the Queen. And not a wife to a King. You're Queen Regnant." She said. "You haven't been crowned yet, but it doesn't change the fact that you are the Queen." Then she changed the subject. "I've taken the liberty of ordering some snacks. Shall we have some lemon cakes?"

"You know very well that lemon cakes are my favourite." Sansa replied sensing at least a small trap.

"That I do.” Said Margaery's grandmother smugly. “And someone else knows too. So we've been told."

"You're referring to Lord Tyrion's gift from yesterday I presume."

"I am, Sansa, but I assure you his knowledge didn't come from me. Whatever favour he asked from you, I haven't been involved in bringing that about."

"It's alright. I know you haven't." Sansa assured her. "Actually, I wanted to speak to you about something else today." Sansa explained the details of the situation with Theon to Lady Olenna. "Could you advise me on what I should do with him?"

"You know the words of House Tyrell. Growing strong. I know they aren't your House words, but as the Queen you should try to use all the wisdom you can get. You need to help the Realm grow strong. You cannot accomplish that by killing everyone that stands in your way. You'll have to make peace with your enemies and unite the Houses. Give that boy a proper whipping, but keep him close. He's a valuable hostage and your father knew that.”

Sansa considered her words, but as much as she wasn't inclined to kill Theon she didn't want him to go unpunished and what Olenna proposed seemed exactly that.

“Grandma is right, San.” Said Margaery. “I know that you feel betrayed by Theon, but he was like a brother to us. He still is despite all this.”

“Thank you, Lady Olenna. Thank you, Marg.”

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa met Lord Hoster in the Great Sept.

“She was always the wisest of my children, Your Grace. She had the calmness that Lysa lacks and the courage that Edmure has so little of. She had the wit and the grace. I hadn't known it till the day she became one, but she was born to be Queen.” He said and Sansa could see wet tear trails on his cheeks.

“Please call me Sansa, grandfather.” She asked.

“You have no idea how much like her you are, Sansa. And I don't mean the looks though you're a living image of her. No, I meant that you match her with your intelligence and gracefulness. I know you will be a wonderful Queen, Sansa.”

“Thank you, grandfather.” She replied simply. “I wanted to ask for your advice regarding Theon. What should I do with him?”

“Do you know that the worst thing you can do to an animal raised in captivity is to set it free? Set Theon Greyjoy free. Send him home. Let him face his father's rejection and dissatisfaction. Let him see how little of an Ironborn is left in him. That will be the worst punishment imaginable for him.”

There was some logic in what Lord Hoster said and yet Sansa couldn't accept it. It didn't seem like justice and it would make her seem weak.

“Thank you, grandfather.”

Lord Hoster bowed and left her alone in the heart of the Great Sept.

“I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Lord Hoster.” Said a voice behind Sansa.

It belonged to a dark-haired man wearing yellow robes. Sansa didn't know who he was, but she noticed that Ser Jaime who was guarding her put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The newcomer didn't seem to notice it.

“Where are my manners?” He reproached himself aloud. “Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, at your service, my Queen.” He walked towards Sansa and kissed her hand bowing deeply. “I've always thought the tales of your beauty were exaggerated, but now I see they hardly give you any credit.”

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn.” Sansa said, but she thought that he was a shameless flatterer.

“I couldn't help overhearing your grandfather's words and I was surprised he proposed such a thing. In Dorne we don't harm children. We don't harm family. And those who would are severely punished. The man who attacked you should be brought to justice. Order him to answer before the Seven. Order a trial by combat. Make him fight one of your faithful subjects. If you agree I'd be honoured to be your champion.”

Sansa reflected on his words. It seemed a good idea at first, but it wasn't. It would mean death for Theon or his opponent, but the latter was unlikely. So it was still a death sentence. However, it was the best proposition she had heard. Sansa hadn't considered Oberyn as a candidate for the position of her Hand, but she could see the positive consequences of such a choice. I would help mend the strained relations with Dorne.

“I will consider your offer, Prince Oberyn.”

Sansa went out of the Great Sept. She still had one person to talk to, but she was worried. Knowing his reputation she expected to hear something like Lord Stannis had said, but unlike him she knew that Lord Lannister could persuade her that it was the right thing to do. But maybe it was the right thing to do and her feelings were really clouding her judgement?

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa was walking near Joffrey's chamber when she heard Lord Lannister's stern voice.

“You will let me in there.” He said.

“I'm really sorry, my Lord, but I'm not supposed to let anyone in. Those were the Queen's orders.” Replied a guard and Sansa was impressed by the firmness of his voice at facing the Great Lion's fury.

“I need to speak with my grandson.” Replied Lord Lannister in a very dangerous tone.

Sansa decided to intervene before the guard was turned to stone by Lord Lannister's stare.

“Of course you can let Lord Lannister in.” She said. “My orders were meant to prevent anyone from sneaking alcohol in for Joffrey. You can rest assured that Lord Lannister is the last person to indulge that boy.”

“Of course, my Queen. I beg your pardon, Lord Lannister.” The guard said. The Great Lion dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“I would like to speak to you, Lord Lannister, if you have time.” Sansa said.

*** * * * * * ***

So the girl-Queen wanted to talk to him. Interesting. Had she been looking for him or was she passing near here by accident?

“Of course, Your Grace.” He answered. “How may I be of service?”

“I wanted to ask your advice concerning Theon Greyjoy.”

This was even more interesting. Was she really uncertain what she should do or did she try to test him? Or maybe both. He was astonished by this strange situation. He'd never imagined a Stark would be coming to him for advice, but here she was. Already wise enough to know there was nothing wrong in seeking counsel on matters she couldn't solve herself, but young enough not to be prejudiced.

If someone attempted to murder him, Tywin would have had their head in the next minute, but he knew that she must have considered that option and if she was really looking for advice, and he was fairly certain that she was, she had deemed it wrong. Killing the boy would start a war, but Tywin wouldn't care about it. He'd have crushed the Ironborn as soon as their feet touched the shore. However, he understood why she wouldn't want war in the first place. He also knew that the future of his relations with this wolf girl could be determined in this very moment.

“Killing him will start a war.” He stated. It was obvious and she had to realise it, but he wanted her to hear it. “Keeping him close will give you nothing but another attempt on your life. Those who think that he's a valuable hostage are morons. Balon Greyjoy considers his daughter - Asha his heir and claims that his sons are dead.” Everyone in Westerlands and Riverlands knew it, but he was not surprised that the word didn't reach the capital. Though the Spider should have known. “Let the boy live and give him a chance to redeem himself, but punish him severely and make a statement with it.” Should he say outright what he meant or should he let her figure it out? He couldn't risk her not understanding. “Send him to the Wall.”

Tywin saw that she was considering his words. He waited for her reaction, but none came.

“Thank you, Lord Lannister.” Said the girl-Queen and she left him standing in the corridor.

He was again surprised by her. She managed to keep a straight face after his words and she walked away from him! No one walked away from Tywin Lannister. No one. Not his subjects, not his soldiers, not his family, not Lords nor Ladies, not Princes nor Princesses, not Maesters nor Septons. No one. Not even Kings. No one but this girl. Didn't she know that she should fear him? No, she had to know. Maybe it was another test? Tywin wasn't used to being surprised. He wasn't used to not knowing. This girl despite her young age was one of the most interesting people he'd met.


	12. Baelor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't posted in quite a while. I had been down with the flu and I also had a great amount of work. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and that I'll be able to post again soon.

Arya observed with pleasure how Sansa's physical condition improved. In the past two weeks her sister's pace became quicker and her steps lighter. Sansa was also able to navigate more freely in the secret passages, to a point where she was usually able to lead their way back no matter how deep into the caverns Arya had led them. Sansa's breathing was more even she wasn't tired after their exercises anymore. She even seemed invigorated. Arya gradually picked up the speed of their running. They always walked the other way and talked about different matters. Arya found that Sansa wasn't the same silly girl concentrated on being ladylike only. That realisation was a strange one, especially since the alteration came from the change in her role which in turn came from their parents and brother dying. Arya missed them greatly, but at the same time she knew that with them gone she had to be the one to protect the rest of her family. Sansa already had a lot of duties and their brothers were too young.

Arya had prepared a surprise for Sansa. Their run was a short one that morning and ended abruptly in quite a big cave where she had earlier brought a few torches to brighten it up. The floor of the cave was mostly even which was perfect for her purposes. Arya lit the torches and then walked towards a rock behind which she had left two wooden practice swords. She picked them up and threw one at Sansa.

“Catch!”

Sansa reacted to the sound, but her reflexes were too slow and the wooden weapon fell to the ground.

“You're too slow.” Arya commented. Her sister bent down to pick her fallen weapon up, but Arya stepped on its end to prevent it. “You need to be quicker.”

“Please, Arya. I know you're good with your sticks. I don't want to fight you.” Sansa said standing straight again.

“You give up too easily. You're taller and heavier. It wouldn't be a problem for you to push me off your weapon, but you gave up without trying.” Arya commented deaf to Sansa's plea.

“I don't want to fight you or push you. I don't see the point.” Sansa replied.

“Sometimes you're so obtuse that I wonder how you can be our parent's daughter even if you look exactly like mother.” Arya remarked. “You need to be able to defend yourself. Yes, you have your Queensguard, and many other guards and soldiers, but all it takes is one assassin and you're dead. But not if you can defend yourself. Of course I don't expect that you'll be carrying a sword, but it's more about having trained reflexes than fighting with a sword. When someone tries to kill you, you won't be focusing on parrying his attacks perfectly, but rather on surviving. In a real-life fight you'll use whatever you have available. Be it a vase or a chair it's not important. The important thing is to survive. At any cost.”

“You can't mean that.” Sansa said.

“I do, sister.” Arya was deadly serious. “You have to survive.”

“So why not have me train with a master of sword. Why you?” Sansa asked. She clearly didn't understand.

“Yes, I'm not a perfect knight in the shining armour. In a regular duel I'd loose to every single one of them. That's why I wouldn't challenge them to a duel. I'd kill them with my knife before they'd manage to take their heavy swords out of their sheaths. Would it be clean and honourable? No. But it would mean that I'd survive and they'd be dead.” Arya wanted to provoke her sister and she had a feeling she was succeeding.

“How can you say such things? Father would never...” Sansa said, but Arya interrupted her.

“Father is dead!” She yelled and it was the last straw.

Sansa pushed her sister away and grabbed the wooden sword. Their weapons collided and soon the cave was full of the noises of wood crashing with wood. Arya didn't go easy on her sister. She saw no point in doing so. A real enemy would do anything to kill Sansa, so Arya didn't spare her. As the result Sansa would have a collection of bruises, but Arya didn't care. What were few bruises in comparison to being dead?

When Arya noticed that Sansa was too tired she knocked the wooden sword out of her sister's hand and put her own to her sister's neck.

“Dead.” She said.

“It's just a stick.” Sansa replied. She was breathless and she had to be in some pain.

“You're lucky then, sister.” Arya replied with a smirk. “To answer your previous question: I don't want you training with a master of sword. Not because I'm afraid you'd best me one day. Because it gives you the element of surprise if your opponents don't know about your abilities. Because in a real fight it might be the advantage that will save your life if they don't think you can defend yourself. They'll underestimate you. If you trained in the training yard, how long it would be before the whole city knew? Half a day?”

“You're right as always, little sis.” Sansa admitted. “But you shouldn't have said that about father.”

“I'm sorry, Sansa. I miss them all too. But it worked. I wanted you to be angry, so that you'd fight me as well as you could. I could have explained my reasons, but then you'd still be the reasonable Queen you are every day. I needed you to forget all that and concentrate solely on the fight.” Arya explained. “Come on, let's get you back. I'm sure some fascinating duties await you today.”

Sansa paled visibly even in the light of torches.

“Seven hells! What is it, sis?” Arya asked.

“Theon.” Sansa replied. “It's the day of his sentencing.”

“Sorry, I meant that as a joke. It will be alright. You do have a solution, right?” Arya inquired.

“I do. But I'm still not sure if it's the right one.” Sansa explained. “It's the best of options, but it might still create problems.”

“It will be alright. You worry too much.” Arya said.

“How can you be so sure that it will be alright? And suddenly I am the one who worries too much, but when you beat me with your stick for fear of some imaginary assassins coming to get me, it was fine?” Sansa managed to smile and the mood became lighter.

Arya only grinned in response. She went to hide the weapons again, put out the torches and they went back.

*** * * * * * ***

The Throne Room was full to the brim. The whole court and all the important people who had come to the capital for the funeral and the coronation wanted to see the traitor's trial. Sansa sat on the Iron Throne while Robert took a chair at her side. Although she was present, it was him who was going to lead the trial. The room was full of noise. Everyone was speculating about what would happen and especially about the sentence. Of the fact that Theon was guilty there was no doubt, but everyone, Sansa included, was wondering whether the accused would be able to say something that would explain his behaviour. She had tried talking to him several times, but he remained stubbornly silent, refusing to answer her questions. She tried reasoning with him, she tried to be stern, she tried to be kind and gentle, but nothing worked. She didn't threaten him. She wasn't going to torture him, though Varys as a practical man had suggested it. That left Sansa with no options. She hoped he'd say something in the trial, but due to his silence a fair trial was as much as she could give him.

When Sansa stood up all the conversations quickly died down. Everyone was impatient for the trial to start.

“Bring him in.” Sansa ordered the guards. Even though she felt uncertain her voice sounded strong and sure.

The man that walked in between two guards hardly resembled the boy she had known. It wasn't that he was dirty or hungry. Sansa had ensured that he be treated fairly in the black cells. But she couldn't have allowed him anything sharp, so his beard grew and his hair was unkempt. His eyes also looked differently. They seemed haunted and for a brief moment Sansa felt her resolve waver. But then she remembered what he had done and tried to do and she was strong again. Whatever would happen, Theon deserved to be punished and his punishment depended very much on his actions. Sansa sat down and Robert proceeded to stand at the edge of the steep stairs that led to the throne.

“Theon of the House Greyjoy, you stand accused by the Queen of attempting regicide and murdering the late Grand Maester. Do you deny those charges?”

“I do not.” Theon replied. His voice was hoarse probably from misuse.

“It has been clear that you were guilty and now you've admitted it, but the Queen insisted that you should be given a chance to explain your actions, however despicable they are.” Robert said. “Do you have anything to say in your defence? Why have you tried to kill the Queen?”

For a moment that felt like eternity it seemed that Theon would remain silent like he had at every occasion Sansa had tried talking to him, but then he looked her right in the eyes and started talking.

“I wanted to kill Sansa because she got what I always wanted and would never have. She had her parents love while I was never loved by my father even before I was taken as a hostage and after that he pretended I was dead. The late King cared for me, loved me I believed, as if I were his own son. But when he proclaimed Sansa his successor I was reminded that I would never be equal to his children. Nor would I ever be worthy in my own father's eyes. Unless he could believe that I have remained Ironborn despite all the years I've spent in captivity. If he saw me coming back after having killed the Queen then he could also believe that I had killed the King and he would make me his heir.” People in the throne room uttered cries of shock and indignation, but Theon continued as if his words were unstoppable once his silence was broken. “No, I had not killed the King. Many people might account for my presence in the training field during the whole day when the tragedy had happened. Robb would have been there with me had he not been summoned by the King to accompany him.” Theon's voice broke then. “He might have been a prince, but he always treated me like a brother. I was very saddened by his death. Then I was prompted to wonder: who profited from that situation? And in that moment of grief my mind pointed towards Sansa who had become the Queen.”

*** * * * * * ***

Having walked back with Sansa Arya was free to go about the day. She didn't have lessons till the afternoon. She didn't bother changing her clothes. She wanted to blend in. She went by the kitchens and grabbed some breakfast then she slipped out of the Red Keep unbothered by anyone. She had to practice chasing cats as Syrio had told her. She spotted a beautiful black one and tried to sneak up on it, but it herd her and started running. Arya gave chase down a few streets, but then the animal run up a wall and continued it's escape on the rooftops where she couldn't follow because there was no way she could run two meters up a straight wall like the cat had. She couldn't find another cat to target, so she did the next best thing - she tried catching pigeons.

Arya had just managed to catch a fat one and tried exchanging it for a lemon cake at a bakery, to no avail since the baker was a very impatient man and hadn't even wanted to hear of it, when she saw people rushing in smaller and bigger groups in one direction.

“Hey, where's everyone going? What's happening?” She asked a boy that was passing by at a quick pace.

“They're taking him to the Sept of Baelor.” He replied slowing down reluctantly.

“Who?” She asked still oblivious to the whole situation.

“That Kraken's spawn! The Greyjoy traitor!” He replied even more impatiently and hurried off.

Arya had been so caught up in her training that she had entirely forgotten about her conversation with Sansa and the whole matter with Theon. She wasn't worried about the outcome. She believed her sister capable of dealing with whatever would come her way. Though Arya wouldn't have thought it possible two months prior and she would only admit it under torture, she thought that Sansa really was the best person for the job and could even surpass their father if she lived long enough. And Arya vowed to do her best to ensure that she would. No, Arya wasn't worried. She was curious.

She ran in the direction of the Great Sept and the closer she got the more people she encountered on her way. In front of the temple there was a big crowd, but Arya managed to make her way to the statue of Baelor the Blessed and climbed on it, high enough to be above the crowd. This way she could clearly see the platform on which there was her sister, her whole Queensguard, the small council and the High Septon. Arya watched as two members of the city watch brought Theon up to stand in front of the crowd. There were angry shouts all around her. People were chanting 'traitor' and 'murderer'. Arya didn't feel sorry for Theon. After all he had tried to kill her sister. She didn't care much about Pycelle's death. After all he had failed to save her parents and brother. Arya's world was simple in that respect. There were people whom she wanted to protect – her family. There were people whom she wanted dead – those who had harmed or would harm her family. And the rest – those who were indifferent to her, but whom she watched closely in case they wanted to join the second group. Her attention was drawn back to Theon who started talking.

“I am Theon Greyjoy. I come before you to confess my crimes in the sight of Gods and men.” Arya was astonished how guilty Theon looked and sounded. His voice, however, was uncharacteristically strong. “I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of the one who was like a father to me. I was raised among his own children, but before his blood was cold I plotted to murder his daughter because I was jealous of her claim to the Throne.”

“Traitor!” Yelled the crowd. Someone threw a rock or a potato, Arya couldn't see exactly, that hit Theon's temple.

When the crowd quieted somewhat Theon continued. “When I was trying to murder her Grace the late Grand Maester stood in my way and shielded her with his own body. He had died a hero protecting his Queen. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say: I had not intended to kill the Grand Maester, but it was because my actions that he died and I wanted to kill the Queen when I should have been the one to protect her against harm.” Theon faced Sansa for the first time since he was brought up to the platform yet he kept his eyes low not daring to meet hers. “I will accept any punishment you see fit, my Queen. I dare not ask for your mercy because I deserve none.”

“As we sin, so do we suffer.” Spoke the High Septon. “This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just. But beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful. What is to be done with this murderer and traitor, Your Grace?”

Sansa faced the crowd and spoke in a clear voice. Arya admired her strength and calmness. “Some have asked me to end Theon's life believing it to be the only just solution. Others have deemed me incapable of dealing out such a punishment and have asked me to let him go unpunished. But my father had always taught me that every crime deserves a just punishment. However, he had also told me that lives shouldn't be wasted hastily and that every man deserves a second chance. It is my will today to let Theon of the House Greyjoy join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles he will serve the realm in permanent exile.” She faced Theon then, but still spoke loud enough to be herd by everyone. “This is your second chance, Theon. But it's also your last chance. Don't waste it.”


	13. Of Hands and Needles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life suddenly got more complicated. I'm sorry some of you were waiting for this chapter for a long time, but I'm happy if some of you did. I've lost a family member shortly after Christmas and even though I knew it would happen, it still hurt so much that it's impossible to describe if you haven't experienced it.
> 
> Requiescat in pace. It was an honour to know you even a little bit.

“I, Sansa of House Stark, first of my name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, proclaim you, Petyr of House Baelish Hand of the Queen. May you always advise me wisely and may you rule the Realm justly in my stead should such a need arise.”

Sansa woke up abruptly when her dream-self pinned the Hand's badge to Baelish's clothes. This decision had been troubling her mind ever since her father had named her the Queen, but it was even worse since she had finally come to a decision. She would wait until after the coronation to proclaim it and she would ask for her aunt's advice, but her mind was set. Yet her unconscious self apparently had other ideas. She didn't know why it would conjure such an image. Maybe it was a vision from the Seven. Maybe it was a prophecy. Though she could not imagine herself doing what her dream-self had done. Maybe it was a warning. She knew that Baelish was ambitious, but she had been weary of him since the funeral feast and she was not going to fall for his manipulations.

The main question was whether Tywin Lannister would agree to be her Hand. She already knew that he was capable of giving her competent advice, even if the action he suggested was against his nature. She was fairly certain that if he were in her place he wouldn't have spared Theon's life yet he was able to go against his instincts and come up with something that surprised Sansa with its simplicity and ingenuity. She also knew that he wasn't afraid or mitigated by convention when it came to telling her that she was wrong. Another important aspect was his experience. During the Mad King's reign it was in fact Lord Tywin who had administered the country, so Sansa had no doubt that he was capable of doing the job well. But would he want the position again? He was ambitious, that was sure, but in contrast to many people surrounding her, he was playing a long game of gaining her trust and strangely enough he was succeeding.

She would ask him privately before she proclaimed her decision, she couldn't risk him defying her publicly. Her father had always told her that Tywin Lannister was the most powerful Lord in the Realms, second only to the King. If he chose to defy her publicly it could create a conflict inside the Realm. She didn't think he would do that, but she had to be ready for every possibility.

She was only a little worried that he would try to take all the power for himself. She didn't think he'd try to overthrow her, he'd rather try to control her and gain power this way, but with the support of aunt Lyanna and uncle Robert she was fairly certain that she'd manage to keep him in check. And there was always the possibility that Arya had mentioned. If it didn't work out Sansa could always appoint a new Hand in his place. Though she hoped it wouldn't come to that. Dismissing Lord Tywin hadn't worked very well for the Mad King.

It was very early in the morning and Sansa tried to fall asleep again, but her mind kept wandering off to all the important matters and all the tasks she had before her, so she couldn't go back to sleep. She washed her face in the water that was left by a servant in the evening and she put on her usual outfit for exercises with Arya, but there was still a lot of time left till her sister would be up. Sansa walked to her solar and was about to sit at her desk to do some work when she heard a commotion outside.

“Her Grace is asleep. You cannot enter her chambers. She needs her rest.” Said a loud voice which Sansa recognised as Ser Barristan's.

“You will not keep me out of her chambers! I need to see her now! I know that she's awake.” Sansa recognised her sister talking.

She went to the door and opened it. “It's alright, Ser Barristan. You can let my sister in.” She said.

“My Queen, I'm sorry if our dispute woke you up.” He apologised, but she raised her hand to stop him.

“It didn't. I was already awake. Thank you for your concern, Ser Barristan.”

Arya walked in and Sansa followed her. “Did something happen?” She asked her sister.

“Tell me you're not going to do it!” Arya demanded and Sansa was confused by her sudden outburst.

“Do you mean that I'll send Theon to the Wall? It's done. He'll be on his way today.”

“No, not that.” Arya interrupted her. “Tell me you're not going to name him your Hand!” Arya exclaimed.

“I am and it's not your decision to make nor your place to question my authority in this matter.” Sansa was a bit angry. She didn't know what Arya was thinking or how she even knew about Sansa's plans, but she wasn't going to change them because of her sister's temper tantrum.

“But he's so horrible! He's a conniving man and the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching is really creepy!” Said Arya. “Like he's hungry and you're a delicious pie or like he's hunting and you're excellent game.”

“You're imagining things, sister.” Sansa replied. Though she had tried mending things between them she wouldn't stand such insubordination. Yes, she was Arya's sister, but she was also the Queen. One didn't exist without another and she couldn't tolerate Arya scolding her.

“I'm not imagining things!” Arya continued stubbornly. “Don't you know he's always been enamoured in our mother? And now his transferred his longings to you which is really weird and totally not okay.”

“Wait a second.” Sansa interrupted her sister's monologue. “Who are you talking about?”

“Baelish, of course.” Arya explained matter of factly. “I had a nightmare in which you've named him Hand. I don't care if he was the one who told you how to deal with Theon. You cannot name him your Hand.”

“I CAN do almost anything.” Sansa replied and continued before Arya could interrupt her again. “However, that doesn't mean that I will. I have no intention of naming Lord Baelish my Hand, no matter how close friends he and mother were. Surprisingly, I've had the same dream today. It woke me up. I think it's a warning from the Gods to make us weary of Baelish's ambitions.”

Arya was visibly as astonished as Sansa felt. “So you don't intend to name him? Who then? Who were you talking about?”

“Lord Tywin Lannister.” Sansa prepared herself for another outburst of Arya's and was indeed surprised when none came. “You're not going to yell at me again?” Sansa inquired.

“No. Actually, I approve of your choice. He's a competent man. Cunning too and you'll need that. Also he already knows that I'd kill him if he ever even tried to harm you, so that saves me the trouble of threatening another person who'd become your Hand if it wasn't for your choosing Lord Lannister.”

“Wait a second. You've threatened Lord Lannister? When have the two of you even met?”

Arya sighed, sat in one of Sansa's armchairs and recounted her episode of spying on Lord Lannister when she saw him walking with Sansa in the godswood and the things that happened later. When she got to the exchange of glances and the handshake after the funeral Sansa was really puzzled.

“So you haven't actually told him that you'd kill him? You haven't actually threatened the Lord of Lannister?”

“That's the thing, sister. I didn't have to. He understood it and he acknowledged it. I saw it in his eyes. That is why I think he'll do nicely as your Hand. He's alright.”

“How can you say that? You don't know him at all. Don't you know what he's done? Have you never heard the Rains of Castamere?” Sansa asked incredulous.

“I have.” Arya replied. “Have you? Yes, the Rains might tell a story of a man who rebelled and was cruelly punished for it along with all his family, but there's another story that the song tells. It's a story of a young man defending the honour and good name of his family against those who'd try to ruin it. It depends on the way you look at it. Yes, the song's meant to inspire fear in the hearts of the enemies of House Lannister, but what do you think it inspires in its members? Pride and awe. He's a man who protected his family and you can hardly fault him for that. What he did might have been cruel, but it was justice. House Reyne rebelled against their liege Lord.” Arya explained.

“Wow, sister. I think you might actually like him.” Sansa commented.

“As long as he doesn't hurt you or the boys.” Arya replied seriously. “And anyway why would you want him as your Hand if you don't think he's alright?”

“I don't need him to be alright as you say it.” Sansa countered. “He has what I lack. Experience, wisdom and knowledge.”

“Fine, fine. I'm not arguing with that. Plus he's one of the most powerful people in the Seven Kingdoms” Arya was quick to relent. As eager as her sister was, Sansa observed that most talk about politics bored Arya quickly. “And now that that's settled and we're both awake let's go train.”

*** * * * * * ***

Arya stood in her favourite place in the Throne Room, that allowed her to observe everything that happened without being widely seen as Sansa was officially to welcome their aunt, uncle and cousin. Sansa had received a message by raven the previous day that their aunt Lyanna was close to the city and that her whole party would arrive the next day.

Had Sansa remained a princess she would have gone to the gates of the Red Keep to greet her aunt, but as she was the Queen it wasn't proper for her to do that, no matter how happy she felt because of aunt Lyanna's arrival. She had to stay in the Throne Room to greet the guests officially. Or at least that was what uncle Robert had said. Maybe it was because as acting Regent he had to accompany the Queen and he wanted to stay away from their aunt for as long as it was possible. Arya smiled at that memory. Having to work with aunt Lyanna was hard for uncle Robert, but since he had promised their father he had to choose between his pride and failing to fulfil his best friend's dying wish.

The situation between uncle Robert and aunt Lyanna had been tense ever since Arya could remember. Arya had asked her father about it once, but he told her that it wasn't his story to tell and that she should ask her aunt. Arya never got to do this. Aunt Lyanna who was always cheerful and warm instantly stiffened and grew cold whenever uncle Robert entered the room or even at the mention of his name. Robert himself avoided her like wild fire. If by chance they met they both pretended they were perfect strangers, behaving politely, but keeping their distance.

Arya knew the history well enough even though those were just facts. She could see why it could create such reactions in two people both of whom had strong personalities though of a completely different type.

“Lady Lyanna of the House Stark, Lady Regent and Protector of the Realm, Wardeness of the North and Lady of Winterfell.” The herald announced. “Her husband Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and their son Prince Jon Stark-Targaryen.”

Arya watched as her relatives approached the Iron Throne. She had not seen aunt Lyanna in quite some time. It was a long journey from Winterfell to King's Landing, but while aunt Lyanna had made the journey with a certain regularity and usually with Arya's cousin, uncle Rhaegar was a rare guest at court. Arya understood that he had good reasons for avoiding this place.

Arya was glad to see both her aunt and her uncle, but it was Jon's presence that made her truly happy. Ever since they had met there was a bond between them. Arya was a loner in the capital and Jon seemed to be alone in the North, so despite their age difference they were drawn to one another. Jon's sisters were too young for him to connect with them and though he had always gotten along well with all of Arya's siblings there was an understanding like no other between the two of them. As Lyanna was being officially welcomed Arya saw Jon slip away into the crowd and sure enough soon he was with her. Arya stood alone and the reason she had a lot of space for herself was that Nymeria was accompanying her. Jon, however, wasn't put off and approached unafraid. Arya didn't wait for him to come all the way. She ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck. She didn't care that there were important things happening in the middle of the room. Finally her best friend was with her!

“I've missed you.” She told him, though she managed to keep herself from shouting. She didn't want to draw too much attention.

“Hey.” He said returning her hug. “I've missed you too.”

“I've learnt so much while you weren't here.” She told him enthusiastically.

“I'm sure of it. Come on. Let's sneak out. I want to show you something.” He said grabbing her hand and leading her away.

Arya followed him swiftly. She was almost bursting with curiosity. It had to be something really special if Jon had dragged her out of the throne room while his own mother was being welcomed as the Regent. They walked towards the chamber Jon always occupied whenever he was in King's Landing. It wasn't far from her own which made it convenient whenever they wanted to plot some mischief together. Jon walked through some hidden passages on the way though she had to help him with choosing the right way once or twice. He opened the door to his room inviting her in.

The servants had not wasted any time and Jon's belongings were already in their right places. In the middle of his desk there was a long package. Jon lifted it up and handed it to her.

Arya unwrapped it as fast as she could and she saw a beautifully made weapon. It was short and slender, but made with great finesse and care.

“This is no toy.” Her cousin warned her. “Be careful you don't cut yourself.”

“It's so skinny.” She commented, but she looked at the weapon with awe.

“So are you.” Jon countered. “I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."

“I can be quick.” Arya said, but in her head she was already planning an extensive schedule for practising with her new sword.

“You'll have to work at it every day.” Said Jon, but he needn't have. If it was possible Arya wouldn't let the weapon out of her hand. “How does it feel? Do you like the balance?”

“I think so.”

“First lesson - stick them with the pointy end.” He laughed at her.

“I know which end to use.” She countered, but then she added. “I've missed you so much.” And she tried to hug him which might have proven deadly since she was still holding her sword.

“Careful.” He told her and waited till she delicately put her gift away before he embraced her. “All the best swords have names, you know.”

“Proper ladies can keep their sewing needles. I've got a Needle of my own.”


	14. Questions and Dancing

“Aunt Lyanna, I have a million questions, but first I need your advice.” Sansa said. “I need to name my Hand and I would like to hear your opinion.”

Sansa and her aunt were sitting in the Queen's private chambers after the ceremony in the Throne Room. Sansa was a bit anxious to know her aunt's opinion on her choice.

“You've already chosen someone.” It wasn't a question. Aunt Lyanna had already guessed that Sansa had made her choice.

“Yes, but I would rather hear your suggestions before I tell you.” 

“We could do that, Sansa. Yet I would probably name the same people you have considered and eliminated. I know you're unsure, but you have to learn to trust yourself. However, you can be certain that I'll tell you should I have any objections.” Aunt Lyanna's reasoning was hard to dispute with.

After a moment of uncertainty Sansa admitted. “I would name Lord Tywin Lannister my Hand.”

“Of all the people in the Realm he would be the last one that I'd expect you to consider.” Sansa must have unintentionally made a disappointed expression because aunt Lyanna continued. “No, I don't mean that it's a bad choice. It's just unusual. I have to warn you though. He's a dangerous man. I will be here to guide you, but you have to remember to be wary about him.”

“I know he can be dangerous.” Sansa said and at the same moment she realised she really meant those words.

“That's good.” Aunt Lyanna didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press the matter. “Now tell me what have you discovered about the murder of our family and the previous Hand?”

“Not much really. Ser Barristan had questioned Jon Arryn's servants, but found no evidence whatsoever.” Sansa related in a sad voice. She had been eager to find those responsible for the crime, but the investigation gave no results. “They were poisoned with the tears of Lys. The worst part of it is that the murderer had to be someone very close to my father. Very few people knew that father was to visit the Hand with mother and Robb that day. Sometimes I'm walking through the Red Keep thinking that the murderer could be walking past me at any moment and I wouldn't even know.”

“They probably are.” Lady Regent knew that it was always the possibility. “Though we could try assembling a list of people who have left the Red Keep since the murder. Had you considered the possibility that the murderer only wanted to kill Jon Arryn?” Asked aunt Lyanna.

“No. Why would you think so?” Sansa was perplexed. She hadn't thought about that.

“If the visit was spontaneous and as you say very few people knew about it, it could be possible that the murderer's target was to kill the Hand and our family was there by sheer coincidence. It would widen the range of suspects, but it would help with finding the motive behind the crime. Searching for the combined motive, except the obvious, for killing all four of them would be difficult. Searching for a motive for killing one man is easier. So why would someone kill the Hand?”

“They could have hoped to become the next Hand.” It was the most obvious thing to consider, but her mind was already searching for more reasons.

“Right.” Aunt Lyanna admitted. “Who would Ned name in such a case?”

“You.” That was the truth. As much as Sansa's father didn't want to implicate his sister in southern politics, she was the person he trusted most. “My mother. Anyone from the small council. One of the more experienced members of his Kingsguard. He would have chosen someone experienced.”

“Tywin Lannister perhaps? Or maybe Robert?” Aunt Lyanna asked, but Sansa knew that she knew the answer.

“No, father would need to trust the person he named his Hand and he never trusted Lord Lannister.” She replied anyway. “And he would never have named uncle Robert since he knew uncle Robert didn't want it and he isn't really qualified for the job.”

“If you know that your father wouldn't name Lord Lannister, then why would you?” Sansa was sure that aunt Lyanna wanted to add that she shouldn't call Lord Robert an uncle, but at the same time she pretended to be deaf whenever anyone talked about him. It was somewhat childish and reminded Sansa of her sister.

“You're changing the topic aunt Lyanna. If you don't want me to name him tell me so.” She dared her aunt. Sansa didn't like to be toyed with. One moment aunt Lyanna was telling her to trust herself and the other she was telling her off as if she were a small child.

“Would you abandon that idea if I just asked you?” Aunt Lyanna asked unmoved by Sansa's words.

“No.” Sansa wouldn't relent so easily. “But I would consider it if you gave me a good reason. Do you have one?”

“No. I was just curious of your reaction.” Sansa made a scowling expression so Lyanna added. “You are my niece and I've known you for quite some time as such, but now you're also the Queen. I hope that you have what's needed to become a great ruler, but I don't know that. Your answer was a sign that my hoping might not be in vain.”

“Thank you, aunt Lyanna. I won't disappoint you.”

***

The Great Hall was once again full of people. Although Sansa was aware that Lyanna and her party had to be weary from the journey, the Small Council insisted that the Regent be welcomed with a feast. Also as much as Sansa wanted to talk to her aunt privately for hours, she knew that aunt Lyanna deserved a splendid welcome to the capital. Sansa was still in mourning, but Robert assured her it was all right to have a feast if the music wasn't too joyful and the atmosphere was kept serious.

When Sansa and Lyanna walked in the eyes of everyone in the room were on them. Well almost everyone. Sansa noticed Arya who was already seated at the head table. Her sister's eyes were constantly surveying the crowd. It struck her in that moment how much older Arya looked. Generally she seemed mostly unmoved by the events. Yes, she was upset, but out of all the Starks in the capital she was the bravest. However, the recent events hadn't left her unscathed. Though she remained her ever tomboyish self she seemed somehow more mature. It made Sansa a little sad, but it also made her proud. Arya was a princess and she couldn't afford to stay childish forever. Especially, after the tragedy.

Sansa walked to the head table and simply sat down while courtiers came to welcome Lyanna. It was curious to watch them shift their attention from her to her aunt as if she was once more a helpless child not a person whose judgement and help they sought since she was named Queen. Sansa didn't mind. Those people could think what they wanted, but she knew aunt Lyanna well enough to trust her implicitly.

The feast began, but Sansa wasn't very hungry. She would rather sit and listen as aunt Lyanna meandered through the curves and turns of capital's politics with an innate grace and incredible diplomatic skills.

“You should eat something, Your Grace.” Sansa heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Lord Tyrion, shouldn't you be joining the queue in front of my aunt?” She asked him, but her tone was light. She wasn't jealous of the attention her aunt was getting. She was actually relieved to be able to share that burden with someone.

“I'm sure there are higher born lords in that line, my Queen.” He replied and Sansa couldn't stop the light smile that stole its way to her lips. Dwarf jokes never amused her, she found it incomprehensible to laugh at people who were different just because they were different. Yet in Lord Tyrion's mouth such words became weapons against all those who would use them in their feeble attempts at hurting him.

Since she had met him for the first time they had become slightly more acquainted with one another. It was mostly on formal occasions, but somehow Lord Tyrion had become a friend whom she could confide in. No, they didn't discuss matters of state, but instead concentrated on the small things that troubled Sansa and he helped her solve them or at least to look at them from a different angle. He was a bright man with great observation skills and he was invariably kind towards her.

“You, Lord Tyrion, would stand out in any crowd you found yourself in.” Sansa told him. It was a sudden thought she had and she didn't have time to think it through. It was unusual for Sansa who normally thoroughly thought everything she was to say through. She could see the surprise on Lord Tyrion's face, but before he could say anything they were interrupted, by her uncle Rhaegar.

“May I have the honour of the first dance, my Queen?” He asked her.

“Of course, Prince Rhaegar.” Sansa agreed wanting to escape the rashness of her words. She wasn't exactly embarrassed by her them. She was simply surprised she had spoken so openly since she had been used to speaking with a lot of care at court. Trouble was that she had taken to Lord Tyrion almost immediately and her instinct, which was hardly ever wrong, told her that she could trust him. It was an odd thing for her to trust anyone who wasn't her immediate family. Let alone a Lannister.

Let alone two. Which was a different problem entirely. Yes, she didn't have to trust Lord Tywin for him to become her Hand, but she would rather she could. Yet how would he react if he knew that she had become friends with Lord Tyrion since it was widely known that The Great Lion despised his youngest offspring? Sansa had no answer to that question.

“You're very pensive today, my Queen.” Commented uncle Rhaegar as he led their way to the dance floor where some couples were already dancing to the slow music that was played by the orchestra.

“Sorry, there's a lot to take on, uncle. And please don't address me so officially.”

“But I must, Sansa. You're the Queen now. On occasions such as this no one should call you anything but the Queen. It's important for people to hear that your family respects you. And the title fits you just right.” He said in a low voice. “Everyone is watching you and Lya now. Trying to judge weather you can work together or not. Determining whom to support should a conflict arise. My presence here doesn't help. People are speculating weather I have come to claim the throne for the Targaryen dynasty again.”

“Have you?” Sansa asked. There was a hopeful tone in her voice despite her sense of duty.

“No, Sansa. I haven't. This Realm has had enough of Targaryens' rule. Besides if the Targaryens were to rule again, I'm not even the rightful heir. Not after my father...”

“You don't have to say it. I know.”

“Yes, but you deserve the whole story anyway. Not here though. And talking about it doesn't hurt anymore.” He said. “Anyway I'm not even the rightful heir since my father disinherited me and all my scions. It would be Viserys' right, but from what I've heard he's taken after my father. No, Sansa. The days of the Targaryen rule in Westeros are over. Our end had begun when we started chaining up dragons. Your father might not have been born to be a King, but he did a good job as one.”

Dancing with Prince Rhaegar was like flying. He moved with a kind of grace that was gained by hours of practice while she was still a novice though she was good at learning. So she let him lead her. He was also very delicate, holding her just enough to guide her.

“I just hope I'll be able to follow in his footsteps.” She admitted. “It all seems a little overwhelming.”

“That's putting it lightly.” He smiled at her. “I think, however, that you're underestimating yourself. From what I've heard you've been doing quite nicely. It is a lot, but you have the potential to excel at it. It's harder for you since you weren't brought up for this, but maybe you can use it to your advantage. You can be the Queen you want to be, not the Queen you were brought up to be.”

“Thank you for your wise words, uncle. Thank you for believing in me.”

He was about to reply when his eyes escaped to something over her shoulder. His face, which was open and honest when he was talking to her, became a still mask of politeness so often worn by people at court. Sansa turned gracefully as if she were still dancing and in doing so she carefully placed herself between uncle Rhaegar and the newcomer.

“Rhaegar Targaryen.” He said as if he had forgotten all his manners and hadn't even noticed Sansa.

“Prince Oberyn Martell.” Uncle Rhaegar remembered his manners though his voice was cold.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I meant no offence to you.” Prince Oberyn bowed to Sansa, but his eyes only chanced a glance at her. He was looking above her shoulder at uncle Rhaegar like a predator waiting to attack his prey. In that moment Sansa understood with great clarity why he was called the Red Viper. However, she had no doubt that uncle Rhaegar reciprocated the sentiment and the look even though she couldn't see his face.

“None taken, Prince Oberyn. Are you here to cut in?” She asked and took his hand not waiting for his reply.

Prince Oberyn must have had one cup of wine too much or he was simply overcome by anger because his dancing was sloppy. Sansa managed to avoid being stepped on, but it was a close call. Still she has succeeded in putting a safe distance between her uncle and the inebriated or furious Prince.

“I was actually going to ask that you remove that man from your court, my Queen. His very existence is an insult to my family, but that he should be welcomed at court with honours is outrageous.”

“I think that you're forgetting yourself, Prince Oberyn.” Sansa stopped and moved away from him. He was drunk and she didn't want him to make a scene. “We shall discuss that matter when your head is clear and you remember whom you're talking to.”

“Is there a problem, Your Grace?” Sansa recognised this voice before she even turned around.

“No, Lord Lannister. Prince Oberyn was just leaving.” Confronted with Sansa's strong gaze and Lord Tywin Lannister, Prince Oberyn disappeared among the dancing people, which was the testament of his drunkenness since Sansa doubted very much that the famous Red Viper would run from anybody. “Thank you for your concern, Lord Lannister, but your intervention was unnecessary. I was perfectly in control of the situation and Ser Barristan is just a few steps away.” Sansa didn't need saving and she'd rather he respected it.

“You shouldn't underestimate him. He's a killer, Your Grace.”

“You're not my father, my Lord. Don't patronise me. And since you scared away my previous dancing partner it's only proper you should take his place.”

Sansa thought for a moment that he was going to refuse, but after a second of hesitation, which would have been lost on anyone but a very attentive observant, he bowed in front of her and joined their hands. Unlike her uncle who was delicate while dancing with her and Prince Oberyn who was drunk Lord Tywin was rigid like a stone statue. Yet his dancing was irreproachable. She was surprised by his skill since she hadn't imagined him taking part in many balls. He also emanated a sort of strength that made it hard for her to resist the urge to follow him. So she gave in and took pleasure in their dance.

“Your Grace, I presume my dancing skills weren't the reason why you invited me to join you.”

“You always get straight to the point, Lord Lannister.” She liked that about him, but she wasn't about to say that. Instead she continued. “Indeed, my Lord, I had wanted to speak with you.” 

She had been looking for the right way to ask this, but when the moment came she found herself at loss for words. So instead of wrapping everything in pretty words she closed the distance between them and whispered right into his ear.

“Would you accept the position if I named you my Hand?”


	15. Darkened Skies and Hastened Actions

Tywin Lannister was many things, but he wasn't a man who was easily surprised. Whatever came his way he was always prepared for every possibility. Yet this woman... No, this girl managed to surprise him time and time again. Of course her proposal wasn't the source of his shock. It wasn't hard to deduce that she would want to ask the person who helped her deal with her Greyjoy problem, so when she'd chosen his solution he knew that either someone had proposed the same thing he had and she would test him and that person or those people again or she would ask him to assume that role. What surprised him, however, was the timing, he had thought she would at least wait until after her coronation, and the manner in which she asked. Tywin knew that she had learnt the intricacies of the court life quite well, so hearing her ask him that important question without any embellishments or beating around the bush was quite shocking. Even though he had asked her to do jut that he hadn't expected that she would really comply. He knew that it wasn't for lack of words. He had heard her talking at court enough times to know that she knew how to speak.

All those thoughts ran through his head in a span of a few short seconds. Without interfering with the dance he moved close to her like she had done before.

“It would be my honour, Your Grace.” He replied.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the room. A servant, one of those who took care of the ravens for the late Grand Maester, was almost pushing his way through the crowd trying to get to the Queen. He was panting as if he had run very fast. He stopped before the Queen and bowed only slightly which would have been improper in normal circumstances, but the girl seemed to have understood the urgency.

“Forgive the interruption, my Queen, but I have news of great importance.”

Tywin had to give the girl-Queen credit where it was due. She didn't panic. She didn't run to her aunt. She didn't ask anyone to excuse her leaving. She simply left ordering the messenger to follow her. The Regent left with her.

The second they were out of earshot the Great Hall exploded with voices. Everyone wanted to know what could be so urgent to cause the Queen and the Regent to leave the feast so abruptly.

Tywin didn't partake in those speculations. If his instincts were right, and they were hardly ever wrong, he knew exactly what was happening and that meant he had to be ready. He summoned one of his men and instructed him about the preparations that had to be made so that they could leave at any time.

Noticing Tyrion at one of the tables near the end of the Great Hall Tywin walked over to him.

“I always thought you were a stunted fool.” He said by way of greeting, but then added despite himself. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Half wrong.” Tyrion replied in a mocking tone.

Tywin had to control his reactions not to let his hatred fill him completely. Somehow this little drunken beast always managed to get the rise out of him with his insolence. 

“You've managed to befriend the Queen.” Tywin pointed out.

“She must have fallen for my wit and handsomeness.” Tyrion replied in the same tone. “I saw you dancing with her, but then she left you. Do you need some tips, father?”

“Quit joking.” Tywin replied with a seriousness in his voice that finally managed to catch Tyrion's attention. “She's gone to hear the news that the Greyjoys rebelled again.”

“How can you know that?” His son asked incredulous.

“Maybe you are a fool after all.” Tywin remarked. Though judging by the numerous empty vessels in front of his son it was probably the alcohol.

“The urgent message. And Theon Greyjoy's sentence.” Tyrion's mind was catching up with him. “They'll want to get him back since the King is dead and they think the Queen's too weak to fight them. Because she showed him mercy and the Ironborn don't know that concept.”

“I will be going back West as soon as the news get public. I've already had ravens sent to Kevan to mobilise the Lannister army.”

“Do you think they might attack Lannisport instead of setting the northern coast on fire and occupying the roads that lead to the Wall?”

“No, the West should be fairly safe.”

“Then why... Oh of course. You want to gain favour with the Queen by protecting the land that her family comes from. And I suppose you want me to come too. Such a pity they have really good wine in the capital and there'll be plenty at the coronation.”

“Wrong and wrong again. I don't need to seek favour with the Queen. Just before she left she had offered to name me her Hand.” He didn't mention that she basically asked his permission to name him her Hand. Tyrion's expression was a shocked one this time and Tywin continued before his son could interrupt him. “And I want you to stay in King's Landing.”

“And do what?”

“You will serve as Hand of the Queen in my stead."

Tyrion was shocked silent. Tywin didn't blame him. He had always made it clear that he despised his wife's killer. Yet Tyrion was also his son and a Lannister. Maybe he could excel where Tywin's other children had failed so spectacularly?

"Why not my uncle? Why not anyone? Why me?" Tyrion asked disbelievingly.

Tywin simply said. "You're my son." And that finally stunned Tyrion completely silent.

*** * * * * * ***

Entering the Throne Room Sansa was already prepared that the attention of all the people in there would once again be mainly on her, but still the intensity of it shocked her. All of the people from the feast came to the Throne Room and were waiting for her to speak. She was already used to the silence that fell when she was about to speak, but this time it was completely deafening.

Sansa sat on the dreaded iron chair and tried to show no sign of discomfort. Aunt Lyanna sat on a chair that was brought for her.

“House Greyjoy rebelled against our reign.” Sansa spoke the words slowly and calmly. She observed that though the people were worried, her own calmness and composure had a calming effect on them. “They have set sail and are preparing to attack. I will not have us wait. For every hour we wait is an hour we give the battlefield to them.” Sansa looked around and saw uncle Rhaegar. “We will now summon a war council and discuss all the details, but quickly. Prince Rhaegar, Lord Tully, Lord Lannister, please join us, the Lady Regent and our councilmen in the Small Council chamber.” Despite her gentle words there could be no doubt that it was an order.

Sansa was about to stand up and leave, but Lord Lannister walked to the middle of the room and stopped in front of the stairs leading to the Iron Throne.

“By your leave, Your Grace, I would ask that you allow me to depart without any delay. I would have my son, Tyrion, join your war council in my stead.”

Sansa was a little bit shocked. She had asked Lord Lannister to become her Hand and he wanted to leave? He had accepted the offer, but maybe he had changed his mind. Also why would he leave Tyrion with her? Everyone knew that Lord Lannister despised his younger son and yet saying that Tyrion would act in his stead was not a small thing. Especially, since he had done it so publicly. Sansa's eyes met a pair of green ones flecked with gold and she immediately knew his intentions.

“You have our leave, Lord Lannister.” She replied. “Princess Arya, please see Lord Lannister to the gate of the Red Keep.” Arya looked at her and Sansa's lips formed a word. Arya nodded and went to escort Lord Lannister. Sansa turned her attention to Tyrion. “Lord Tyrion, please join us.”

*** * * * * * ***

Arya managed to walk properly slowly to the door of the Throne Room, but when she was out of sight of the people inside she draped her dress in a way that didn't obstruct walking, lengthened her steps and took up speed. Lord Tywin didn't protest.

“Do you need to go to your chambers, my Lord?” She asked.

“No, Princess Arya, my people are already prepared to leave.” He replied.

Arya wasn't very surprised by his admission. He was a man of action, she already knew that much. She chose the way through the secret passages, partly because it was faster, partly because she needed a place where they wouldn't be overheard, but also partly because she wanted to see his reaction and show off a little bit. However, despite her best efforts Lord Tywin was unimpressed. That didn't discourage Arya. She was convinced that he was simply not used to showing positive emotions.

Arya turned a few more times and ensured they weren't followed before she spoke again.

“Sa...” Oh, right. She was the Queen to him. “The Queen will send you the plans of the campaign by raven, but to prevent the enemies from learning those plans, the message will be encrypted. This is the code table.” Arya showed him a piece of parchment she always carried with her. “There are five rows and five columns. Rows are identified by letters: a, b, c, d and e. Columns are identified by numbers from 1 to 5. You write the alphabet in the table. So if you start with A then for example B1 will be F. But that would be too easy. That's why there are no letters in my table. Because the place of A is determined by the number of lines in the message added to the number of letters in the first word. So if there are five lines in the message and the first word is D5E3A1C2, then you place A in B4 which is the ninth position.”

The code was one she had invented during her lonely hours of wandering through the capital. She had mastered using it and sent her first encrypted message to Jon in Winterfell. When he came to King's Landing after receiving that first letter she explained the system to him and they were able to exchange messages hidden in plain sight ever since. When she had mended her relationship with Sansa it was only natural to let her in on the secret and Sansa thought that it would a good idea to make some letters that carried important military and other information encrypted too. It carried a risk since if they ever had a spy among them the whole idea would be useless, but Arya had come up with a solution to that problem. The word to count letters in didn't have to be the first one right? So it could be dependent on the person to whom the message was addressed. And the only ones to know the numbers corresponding to people would be Sansa and Arya herself. For this campaign, however, the simple method should be enough since their enemies shouldn't be aware that they'd use any code yet. Arya already had more ideas for the changes that she would implement in the system, but for the moment there was no time to do that.

Arya wasn't exactly sure if Lord Tywin would be able to understand the code quickly and they didn't have much time. Yet he surprised her with his question that showed he had not only understood the concept, but had also given it some thought.

“The Common Tongue has twenty six letters in the alphabet, but your table has twenty five places, Princess Arya.”

“That's because you replace x with k and s. It's another way to obstruct those who would try to break our code.” She explained. So he really was as smart as they said he was. Perhaps he was laughing inside at her attempts at encrypting messages. She knew it wasn't very complicated, but it was better than nothing and it was at least some attempt.

“Thank you, Princess Arya.”

“Oh, just call me Arya! I can't stand that princessing all day!” She hadn't meant that. Or rather she had meant the words, but she hadn't meant to say them out loud.

“You are a princess.” He said severely, his voice cold like the coldest of winters. “You should learn to be proud of it instead of avoiding it. It's not only your privilege. It's your duty.”

He had a point. Still there was no way Arya would admit that. He had no right to patronise her. He wasn't...

“You're not my father, my Lord.” Arya replied.

“I'm not.” He admitted matter-of-factly. “If I were, you wouldn't be talking back to an adult. And you most surely wouldn't be running wild like you are.”

“You have no right to criticise him!” Arya cared little that he had criticised her. She was used to hearing such words. But she wouldn't allow this cold-hearted Old Lion to talk badly of her father. “He was worth ten men like you!”

“There are no men like me, Princess Arya.” He said unimpressed by her words. “But I'll make you a deal. I will call you Arya in private if you can manage to call me Tywin when we are alone and if you try embracing your position and all that comes with it. The privileges and the rights, but also the duties and the obligations.”

Arya was completely shocked by Lord Lannisters' proposition. Calling him by his name seemed unthinkable to her. Yet since he had proposed it in return for calling her by her name then failing to do so would result in him calling her a princess, she had to try. She didn't really hate being called a princess. She just wished people saw more in her than just that word they spoke before her name. She didn't want the princess to completely overshadow Arya.

“Alright, Tywin.” The name almost got stuck in her throat and it sounded strange coming from her mouth, but she had managed to speak it out loud. “I shall try to do so. Is the code completely clear to you?”

“Yes, Arya.” He replied.

Her name sounded strange spoken by him too, but she was pleased all the same. It was a small victory on her side, but one that she would cherish. He was an important player in this cursed game and his influence on Sansa was already significant and it would only grow stronger. It was peculiar. Wolves and lions weren't meant to walk the same paths and yet theirs were strangely entwined.

Arya turned one last time, made her dress proper once more, went through a secret door and they found themselves near the gate. Tywin's men, Arya made an effort to call him that even in her mind, were already waiting there for him.

“Thank you for accompanying me, Princess Arya.” He said, but instead of kissing her hand which would have been proper according to the etiquette he offered his hand to her like he had on the day of the funeral.

“It was my honour, my Lord.” Arya replied. She might have imagined it, but for a fraction of a second there was something resembling a smile in his eyes, though his lisp remained unmoved.

He didn't waste any more time, but got on his great stallion and led his party through the gate. Arya observed that he needed no help in climbing onto the saddle unlike uncle Robert who was much younger than Tywin. Though after giving it some thought she realised that he needed help with nothing at all. Well maybe almost nothing.


	16. War Council

The Small Council chamber seemed overcrowded with the additional participants, but it was a good place to hold a war council. The servants brought in additional chairs for the people Sansa asked to attend.

“The message we received was from Seagard that was attacked this morning.” She began without embellishments. Like she had said there was no time for too many words. “Prince Rhaegar, while Lady Lyanna is Regent you will be Warden of the North in her stead. You will lead the Northern army. Send them word to meet you at Moat Cailin.” Sansa addressed her grandfather next. “Lord Hoster, I don't think I need to tell you how to defend your land from the Ironborn. You will gather your army at Riverrun, but make sure to send some more men to Seagard.” The Greyjoys could not occupy the coast for long without taking the castle, so their first step was to lay siege to it. “Lord Tyrion, I suspect that your father will gather his army at Lannisport and then set the Iron Islands on fire, right?”

“Indeed, that is his plan, my Queen.” Tyrion confirmed. He looked somewhat surprised that Sansa was already aware of Lord Tywin's plans.

“Lord Robert, as Master of Ships you will take our navy to the Iron Islands and aid Lord Lannister in his efforts.”

Uncle Robert gave her a short nod in response, but Sansa didn't need anything more.

“Who will lead the Royal army, my Queen?” Asked Lord Renly. Sansa had to give him credit. He was always observant. She had wanted to avoid this topic till the very last moment possible, but now he forced her to reveal her plans.

“I will.” She said simply. In the silence that fell in the room one would be able to hear a feather land on a cushion.

“That is absolutely out of the question.” Said aunt Lyanna completely shocked by Sansa's statement.

Sansa wanted to scream that she was the Queen and she wouldn't be contradicted, but strangely enough she imagined what Lord Lannister would say about such a behaviour and in stead said calmly. “I could not ask any of my subjects to sacrifice their lives if I weren't ready to do the same for them.”

“My Queen, you are not a warrior nor are you a strategist.” Said Ser Barristan. “I beg you to reconsider that decision. No one will ever doubt your readiness to protect this Realm, but a battlefield is no place for a person your age.”

“I am grateful for your concern, Ser Barristan. But can you guarantee that in no army will there be anyone younger than me?” She asked. “You cannot. Because it's war. And if they can then why wouldn't I? Besides if I don't ever go I will never learn. I've studied strategy in theory, but what use is knowledge you cannot apply in practice?”

“You are the Queen. The Realm needs you alive.” Aunt Lyanna countered. “And you have no heir.”

“Arya is the next one in line to the Iron Throne.” Sansa replied. She wouldn't wish this burden on her sister, but for now this was the case.

“Can you really see her sitting on the Iron Throne?” Asked uncle Rhaegar. Sansa could not. Still she wasn't going to be swayed so easily.

“I won't be going alone. Do you not know that the members of the Queensguard are the most valiant warriors in the Seven Kingdoms?”

The dispute would have lasted longer if not for Tyrion's harsh words.

“Can't you see that your presence on the battlefield would bring danger on them too? Yes, you will be able to boost your army's morale with your presence, but your enemies will be aware that a wolf with no head cannot bite. If they manage to kill you the battle will be theirs, so they'll concentrate their forces on you. I have no doubt that Ser Barristan could kill any single one of the Ironborn in a single combat without really breaking a sweat, but if he were to fight ten at the same time he could fall just for the lack of hands to kill them all at once. And your death could also be a mere accident. At a battlefield anything could happen and a stray arrow could hit you at any time and no one would be able to protect you against that.” Tyrion was relentless. “I know your father always said that if you were to pass a sentence you should also swing the sword, but he never taught you to swing one. That doesn't mean you can't learn, but it takes time which you don't have right now. Many people will be honoured to lead your army for you and bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms once more. If you named me I would go without hesitation. My death would be a small thing compared to yours.”

In that moment Sansa realised how similar to his father Lord Tyrion was. She also realised her idea was a naïve one and he made it completely clear. It wasn't easy to admit it, but she relented. Tyrion, however, wasn't done yet.

“Would you go plough a field saying that you cannot ask a farmer to do something you're not prepared to do? You wouldn't. Not because you couldn't, not because it would be undignified. There's nothing wrong in being a farmer. But that isn't your role. You are the Queen and your role is to rule. Not only farmers, not only warriors, but everyone. There might come a day when the Realm will need you to lead the army, but this isn't such a day. It's a minor rebellion of a House that has already been there, done that and most importantly lost.” Tyrion explained.

With every word he tore down Sansa's reasoning. She had been convinced of being right. She was sure that the decision was a good one, but maybe she had let her fantasy overcome common sense. She had imagined herself leading the armies to a glorious victory, but in truth she had no idea about doing it.

“You want to be a good Queen. But what makes a good ruler? Hmm? What is a good ruler's single most important quality?” Tyrion asked.

“This is hardly the place or the time.” Interrupted aunt Lyanna, but Sansa had to know where his words were leading.

She thought about his question for a few seconds. “Wisdom.” She replied.

“Yes. Wisdom is what makes a good ruler.” He agreed with her answer. “But what is wisdom? Hmm? A house with great wealth and fertile lands asks you for your protection against another house with a strong navy that could one day oppose you. How do you know which choice is wise and which isn't? You've any experience of treasuries and granaries or shipyards and soldiers?”

“No.” Sansa wished it was otherwise, but she had to admit that he was right.

“No. Of course not.” Tyrion's words didn't sound like an accusation. “A wise ruler knows what he knows and what he doesn't. You're young. A wise young queen listens to her counsellors and heeds their advice until she comes of age. And the wisest rulers continue to listen to them long afterwards.”

Sansa considered his words and couldn't find a fault with them. But who could she name the commander of her army? She had been so certain she would assume that role that she hadn't even considered other possibilities. The choice was an obvious one and a hard one at the same time. Sure Ser Barristan was the most suitable man for the job, but he was also the Commander of her Queensguard and his counsel was invaluable.

“Your words are wise, Lord Tyrion, and your advice appreciated.” She faced Ser Barristan. “Will you lead the army, Lord Commander?”

“It will be an honour, my Queen.” He replied.

The rest of the council consisted of detailing the plans and strategies for every army and trying to coordinate their movements to best suit their plans. Sansa kept quiet for the most of it, listening and learning as much as she could. This wasn't a lesson in strategy by one of her tutors. This was real life and the figures they moved on the map were real people, many of whom would die. It scared her, but was exciting at the same time. It was a taste of the game that was played by the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms and she was witnessing it with her own eyes. She knew it was just the beginning and at the same time she hoped she wouldn't have to play with the lives of others ever again. Sansa knew such hope was futile, but simultaneously she couldn't help feeling it.

At some point Arya walked into the chamber and explained the cypher to everyone, so that they could communicate in the plain sight keeping their enemies in the dark. Most people liked the idea and Sansa was proud watching her sister talk to all the people gathered in the room as if she belonged there, as if the age gap didn't exist between them.

“When do you plan on holding your coronation?” Aunt Lyanna asked her. “It shouldn't wait until after the war yet without so many Lords present it will seem incomplete.”

“I don't need a grand ceremony, aunt Lyanna.” Sansa replied. “If you think it best it can even be held on the morrow before the Lords leave for the war.”

“If I can suggest anything, my Queen.” Said Lord Renly. “I'd advise you to wait. The current political situation gives you the time since the war had already begun. If it hadn't I would have advised haste, but there's no use crying over spilled milk. Those who are on your side will remain faithful no matter if you're officially crowned or not, the rest will have a time to choose and watch the events closely. When the campaign is over and those who lead it come back victorious, then you can be crowned in a grand ceremony that will make it ever more significant. You only have one coronation in your life, so why not organise it with as much splendour and grandeur as humanely possible?”

Most of the people in the room agreed with Lord Renly's words and Sansa herself thought it a good idea. Aunt Lyanna didn't look that happy, but she didn't protest either.

“So it's settled. I wish all those who leave good luck. May the Warrior guide your way, my Lords.” Sansa said finishing the meeting.

“And the Father give you wisdom, Your Grace.” They replied.


	17. The Clairvoyant and the Grand Maester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments on this work. I really appreciate it. It was you that kept me writing, even though I had been unable to complete anything up till now. Thank you to everyone who still waits for more. I'll do my best not to disappoint your expectations.

Bran was running over the rooftops of Kings' Landing again. He could have sworn that sometimes when he did that he could feel his mother's judging gaze upon him, but maybe that was exactly why he did it in the first place. He had looked for her for days on end, but she was nowhere to be found. A part of him realised that she was no longer with them, but he still sought her. Here upon the roofs of the capital he could still feel her. Yes, her face that he imagined seeing was scornful, but that didn't bother Bran that much. It was better than nothing. Better than the emptiness he found in her usually favourite places. Better than Sansa occupying the chambers that used to belong to their parents. Better than aunt Lyanna who tried to replace Bran's mother. Bran loved aunt Lya, but he still wanted to scream when she hugged him the way only mother's were supposed to hug their sons or tried to talk to him like his mother used to.

Anyway climbing was easy. Bran knew that Arya often disappeared into the corridors under the Red Keep or into the streets of Kings' Landing. He had even seen Sansa joining her lately. Bran wasn't interested in that. He much more preferred being alone and over everything. In his dreams he saw the three-eyed-raven again and again. Sometimes he even imagined that he himself was a raven or maybe even the raven, flying in his dreams high above the Seven Kingdoms.

This day however he was not dreaming, but running and climbing over the rooftops. He was once again going towards the River Gate where he had his strange vision, curious to see whether he could cause it to happen again by coming to the same place where it happened before. Arriving there Bran stopped dead in his tracks. _That can't be true!_ He thought. Bran pinched his arm like Old Nan had taught him, to try to discern whether he was dreaming or not, but all that happened was the feeling of pain. He was still in the same place and he still saw the same thing: riding through the gate was the exact same man Bran had seen in his vision before.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa was in the Throne Room listening to a seemingly infinite number of petitioners. She was slowly becoming more and more tired and fidgety. Not that she was bored, but sitting in one place especially on the very uncomfortable Iron Throne was exhausting. Sansa knew very well that she could have dismissed the court early, putting an end to petitions for the day. She knew that she could have left the task to aunt Lyanna. Yet she also realised that her father wouldn't have delegated his job, that he would have sat there listening to the last moment of petition's time. If Sansa gave in to her weakness she would have felt as if she was letting him down. That thought gave her strength to carry on and concentrate.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the Throne Room and Sansa was surprised to see Bran running through the crowd towards her. People parted before him, not only because he was the Prince, but also because Summer was walking next to him. People were still afraid of the direwolves, even though most of them had grown accustomed to the sight of them. Her brother reached base of the stairs and fortunately he remembered to stop there. He looked at the man who had been talking a moment earlier and who was now stunned silent.

Bran bowed before her a little hastily and not precisely the right way, but Sansa was still glad he did that much. It was apparent that he had been in a hurry, but the lessons he'd been taught were paying off at this moment. “Your Grace.” He addressed her, yet again properly. “I need to tell you something important.” Then he added as an afterthought. “Privately.”

“Sir Loras, please escort my brother to the antechamber.” She asked one of her Queensguards. “I'll be with you shortly.” She promised Bran. “Please, continue.” She said to the man who had been talking.

Although Sansa was very curious what her brother wanted to tell her that was so important to him that he would run through the Throne Room to see her, she still couldn't just go after him. Well... she could. She was the Queen and she could do as she pleased, but that wouldn't have been perceived well and she had to be wary of that aspect every moment now. Bran had been very closed off since their parent's death. Sansa had caught him a few times walking through the Red Keep and searching for their mother and she knew for a fact that he still sneaked out to climb over the rooftops even though she had tried to talk it out of him and she had even gone as far as to put a guard at his door. Since the death of their parent's Bran didn't like going into public places and he shied away from her and aunt Lyanna whenever they tried to comfort him. What was so urgent that he would come running to her now?

At last the man was done and Sansa gave him her reply. It was a standard one for a simple case. Gods, she had a feeling that half of the petitioners were coming in only to see her on the Throne. Still she was aware that this too was important. She stood up asking aunt Lyanna to take over for her and went out to meet Bran. She was grateful for the break, but she vowed to herself she would return promptly.

*** * * * * * ***

Bran was nervously pacing around the room when Sansa walked in. When he saw her he ran towards her and hugged her closely. Sansa was surprised, but she returned the hug.

“Hey, what's wrong, Bran? What happened?” She asked gently.

“I saw the man coming.” Bran said as if that explained everything.

“Which man, Bran? Did he do something to you?” Sansa asked suddenly worried.

“No, no. I don't know who he is.” Bran explained again like it was the most obvious thing. “He doesn't seem bad.” He said as an afterthought. Then his face became serious again. “The problem isn't what he did. The problem is that I've had a vision of him coming and now he's here.”

“Can you tell me more about that vision?” Sansa asked and led her brother to sit down at the table that was in the room. While he spoke, she ate some refreshments that have been prepared for her and drank some water with lemon juice. Bran recounted the story, hesitating at times when he had to admit to having been climbing. Sansa was utterly perplexed by her brother's story.

“I don't know what to do with that, Bran. I'll ask aunt Lyanna, but you shouldn't talk about it with other people. I wish there was a Maester we could ask about it.”

“Maester!” Bran slammed his hand into his forehead. “That man had a maester's chain around his neck! I didn't recognise it then, but now that you mention it, I'm sure that he had it.”

“I have no reason to doubt your words, but please be careful. If what you saw proves to have indeed been the future, then I wouldn't want many people knowing about your gift.”

“So that you can use it to your advantage?” Bran asked, his voice suddenly accusatory.

“Our advantage, if anything. And no, that wasn't my first thought. It's so that I can make sure you're safe, Bran.” Sansa said ruffling his hair a little. “I have to go back to the Throne Room now, but you can accompany me if you want to and if you promise you'll be good.”

“I promise.” He said.

“Then let's go see if your vision was prophetic indeed.”

*** * * * * * ***

When they re-entered the room Sansa could already hear that there was a commotion inside. She walked up to the Throne and seated herself. Aunt Lyanna quickly whispered into her ear.

“Looks like your new Grand Maester has arrived, but he isn't what everyone expected.”

Sansa didn't let on that she already knew. She would talk to her aunt later, in private. She looked down at the crowd and noticed the man walking through the crowd. He was hardly more than a boy! He couldn't be more than three years older than her. The people in the room were whispering all around him, no doubt mocking his young age and even more his stature. The boy was very fat, there was no way around it. He came forward and stopped before the stairs to the Iron Throne.

“Your Grace.” He said bowing. “I'm Maester Samwell and I've been appointed to serve as Grand Maester to you.”

The name rang a bell in Sansa's mind and all pieces fell into place. She remembered that a few years back her father had been visiting Horn Hill where he met a very intelligent boy who had been wasted in the household where his father desperately tried to make him into a warrior. Despite vehement protests the father, Lord Randyll Tarly didn't dare refuse his king's order and the boy was allowed to go to the Citadel. Sansa's father then took care that the boy be admitted to become an apprentice there though the maesters weren't very pleased to be ordered to accept someone since they liked to pick their own students. When Robb asked their father why he would anger so many people to help one boy realise his dreams, their father replied that if you saw true potential in someone and you could help them realise it, then it would be a great waste not to.

So the Conclave decided that this boy would be her Grand Maester and Sansa couldn't help but think that it was their way of getting back at her father for forcing their hand. Still... she refused to let her courtiers shame him here. Her father had seen the boy's potential and she would be a fool to make a scene here. If he proved to be as intelligent as her father had deemed him then surly it would be her gain and if he didn't live up to the task she would deal with it later.

“We welcome you at our court, Maester Samwell.” Sansa said. “You must be indeed a man of great wisdom to be chosen for this position in your age.”

This was exactly what she needed. None of the courtiers would dare to disrespect him openly now. True, they would still gossip, but with her approval the young man would have an easier time adapting to the life at court. She was just hoping he wouldn't do something stupid like denying her words in front of the court.

“Your Grace is most kind. The appointment did come as a surprise to me, but I'm ready to serve you with all my knowledge and wisdom.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester.” Sansa said while at the same time she thanked the Seven that he knew how to behave.


	18. Matchmakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that there's a war going on. I remember. But since it's Westeros, they do have to travel quite far to actually do any fighting. I know GM said that he didn't want the distances to be really precise, but I'd like them to at least be probable. So while Tywin and the others are on the road there are still interesting things happening in KL. At least I hope you'll find them interesting.
> 
> I know that this chapter is lengthy, but I didn't really want to split it.

The small council meeting dragged on and on. Sansa was usually eager to attend those meetings for this way she could learn and prepare for the time when she would have no Regent to guide her, but today it was really tedious with the council members discussing every single detail of every case. They were just one small step from deciding which type of grain should be sown on every single field in the Seven Kingdoms. However, despite being so terribly bored, Sansa managed to keep her countenance. She kept her face cautiously blank with just a trace of interest that was required of her.

“I know that all those subjects are pressing matters, but we have something far more important to talk about.” It was Lord Tyrion who broke the tediousness of the meeting. He addressed Sansa. “I know that there's the war to think of, Your Grace, and your coronation that will take place once the former is over, but there's another matter to discuss.” Sansa already knew Lord Tyrion enough to know that what he was about to say would be big. “Your Realm is destabilised by both the war and the death of the King, the Queen, the Crown Prince and the Hand.” He brought in the heavy arguments, Sansa dreaded what would follow. “You should consider getting married, Your Grace.”

Sansa had expected this topic to come up at some point, but not this early, so she was still surprised. She was about to reply, but her aunt beat her to it.

“That's an improper matter to mention at this moment.” The Regent said coolly. “The Queen is still a child and has time to come to such a decision herself. The Seven Kingdoms have already taken a part of her family away. They have taken her childhood the moment her father named her his heir. Do you think they should also be allowed to take away her choice in the matter of matrimony? Are you going to follow your statement up with a name of the person you think most appropriate to marry the Queen?” Lady Lyanna asked.

“I meant no such thing, Your Grace.” Lord Tyrion said.

But before he could say anything more Sansa decided to interfere. She didn't want there to be a quarrel between her aunt and Lord Tyrion. Besides as much as Sansa would prefer to avoid the topic, Lord Tyrion was right.

“Please, don't argue about it. Aunt Lyanna, you're right that I'm still but a child. I know that you had the opportunity to marry for love, but it cannot be so in my case. Lord Tyrion, you were right to bring up this matter. A royal wedding would serve to bring more stability to the Seven Kingdoms and to my reign. We will discuss the topic further on the morrow and I would like each of you to propose a candidate that you think the most suitable for the position of my consort.”

*** * * * * * ***

“You cannot be serious about going on with this, Sansa.” Aunt Lyanna told her when they were alone in Sansa's chambers. “You're the Queen. You could marry anyone you chose. You could marry whenever you wanted. So what if you're not in love at the moment. You could still fall in love one day and then have the opportunity to marry that person. Moreover, you could set an example to every woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Choosing to marry for love and of your own free will.”

Sansa walked towards her desk and sat behind it. She knew why aunt Lyanna was so vehement on this topic. Sansa herself had dreamt of marrying for love when she was a girl. She had dreamt of her knight in a shining armour.

“Yes, aunt Lyanna. Like you've mentioned: I am the Queen. And that means my first thought cannot be of myself or my own happiness. I have to think about the people I'm responsible for. Lord Tyrion was right. At the moment the Seven Kingdoms are divided. The great houses quarrel and plot among themselves. The common people pray for a long summer and peace. I cannot grant the former, but I can grant the latter and I can make sure that if winter should come they will have enough food to eat and wood to warm their houses.” At some point Sansa realised that as much as she tried to convince her aunt she was also trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. “I cannot win the friendship of the houses by force. I don't command the respect that my father had nor can I effectively lead an army if such was my choice. The people fighting in the war for me have their own agendas. Sometimes it's as simple as protecting their own houses and lands, but on other occasions they will seek to influence me, having helped my cause.”

“That's just the way it has always been. You cannot expect to change tradition, by doing the most traditional thing possible: marrying someone you're told to marry.”

“That's not the point, aunt Lyanna. I will be the one who will ultimately choose my husband. You just don't like that I'll be doing it for political reasons and not for love. Things would be different if I were in love. I would probably be arguing with anyone who tried to dissuade me from marrying someone I chose. But as it is, I'm not in love. And you should look at my parents. They married not having ever met before their wedding day. Can you deny that they loved each other?”

“I cannot.” Admitted aunt Lyanna.

“So why couldn't I have the same? True, not every couple is happy, but it's achievable if one works for it. And if I cannot have love from my husband, then it's a sacrifice I have to make for the good of the Realm.”

“No, you don't. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Besides any man you marry will try to usurp your power as Queen. Most men like to think they're superior to women. Can you imagine someone like that bowing to you and doing as they're bid? Of course you could always marry someone weak, but then the whole point of strengthening your position would be ruined. You're the first female ruler of Westeros since Rhaenyra Targaryen. I would hate for you to become but another half-year Queen.”

“I will not. But my young age works to my disadvantage. I hope that those who have seen me rule realise that I have the strength of my parents and that there's strong northern blood in my veins, but those who have not witnessed the effects of my rule yet, think of me as a mere child. And the war doesn't help my cause. I know that it was inevitable, but I still wish there was another way. I need to marry someone who has enough experience to help me when I won't know what to do, but who will also respect me enough to listen to my opinions. Someone who will be strong enough to support me, but also strong enough not to be afraid of the power I will have over him as Queen.”

“Then you should marry him.” Said Arya.

Both Sansa and Lyanna nearly jumped hearing Arya speak. None of them had noticed her entering the room. She was standing casually leaning on the wall near the door to the solar and smiling knowingly.

“How did you come in?” Sansa asked her sister. Then she realised what she and aunt Lyanna had been talking about. “How long have you been standing there?” How much had Arya heard? And most importantly. “Of whom do you speak this time?”

“I came in through the door and Ser Loras was kind enough to let me in without official announcement when I told him I had urgent news for you.” Arya said, but Sansa knew that 'urgent news' was code for 'came in through the secret passage', since they had agreed that no one should know about it. “I've been standing here almost since the beginning of your conversation and I have heard Lord Tyrion's statement during the Small Council meeting.” Sansa chanced a glance at their aunt who looked slightly amused, but also a little bit worried when she heard Arya's bold admission of her crime. Sansa sighed slightly. If someone would eavesdrop on the most boring of Small Council meetings only to hear the interesting bit in the end it was bound to be Arya. Or was her sister more invested in the matters of state than she let on? “Then I knew I had to follow you since I knew you would discuss it further and that you would fail to find the right answer.”

“And you presume to have the answer?” Asked aunt Lyanna.

“Why, yes. I'd imagine so.” Arya looked at her sister. “Which of the big Houses are with you?”

“House Stark, of course, because it now consists of the two of us, our brothers, aunt Lyanna and her family. Basically, it's all in the family. I think I can be sure of Lord Hoster since he's our grandfather. I don't know about uncle Edmure, but I think we can count on the support of House Tully.”

“I think you're right about that. And anyway you can't marry uncle Edmure and he has no son yet.” Arya said.

“Aunt Lysa is also family, so we can count on her support, though since the death of her husband she had fled to the Vale saying the Eerie is the only place where she could keep her son safe.”

“Robin is not who you'd want as your husband. He's too young and anyway I don't think Lady Lysa will let him out of her sight anytime soon.” Added Lyanna. “As for now you have to count on your aunt's support when it comes to House Arryn.”

“As long as uncle Robert is the head of House Baratheon, we can also count on his support.” Sansa said. “When the title passes onto Joffrey, well... let's hope we won't have to worry about it for a long time.”

“Let's hope you can really count on Robert.” Said Lyanna.

“He will support Sansa because he promised our father that he would. And as much as he drinks and cheats on his wife, he would never break a promise he gave our father.” Said Arya.

“Arya!” Sansa exclaimed with indignation, but they all knew that those words were true, as much as they were tactlessly phrased. “House Tyrell is Lady Olenna. She is a cunning woman. However, Margaery is like a sister to me and Loras is my Queensguard. I think I can be fairly certain of House Tyrell allegiance. I could marry either Willas or Garlan, but that could seem like favouring one House over the others if I surround myself with Tyrell family members.”

“As much as I like Ser Loras, I have to admit that one more could be an exaggeration.” Arya dropped in.

“House Greyjoy will never be on my side. Besides, whichever of the Greyjoys I would marry, would seek to take away my power and my crown.”

“Which one were you thinking of? Balon? Euron? Victarion? A lesser one still. None of them is fit to be husband to the Queen however much they'd like to style themselves kings.” Said aunt Lyanna.

“House Martell would be one I would consider allying myself with. They are a force to be reckoned with. They are also still slighted by uncle Rhaegar's annulling his marriage to Princess Elia to marry you. They also blame him for their children's deaths.” Sansa looked at Lyanna and quickly added. “I know it wasn't his fault, aunt Lyanna. Yet it doesn't change that they still think so. Marrying one of Princess Arianne's brothers could bring peace between our families. Yet they are both boys and lack the experience and strength I need in a husband. Prince Oberyn could be an alternative. I don't know if he'd consider it, but that's one possibility.”

“He who has countless bastards in Dorne and doesn't even try to hide it?” Asked Lyanna. “He would also kill my husband without a second thought given the opportunity.”

“House Lannister is Lord Tywin. He already is my Hand even though at the moment Lord Tyrion plays the part. I think that Lord Tyrion's help is sincere. Ser Jaime is my Queensguard and I trust him. I don't actually know what Lord Tywin's purpose is. He's hard to decipher.”

“Well, not that hard.” Arya remarked, but she said no more about it.

“There's one more House to consider. House Targaryen.” Aunt Lyanna looked confused, so Sansa continued. “Uncle Rhaegar is your husband and I wouldn't try to steal him from you. Daenerys is like a sister to me and I could not marry Jon because of what you've said that people should marry who they love. But there's one more to consider. Uncle Rhaegar's younger brother Viserys. After all he is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne since King Aerys disinherited uncle Rhaegar.”

“You can't be serious. He's the beggar King.” Arya interrupted. “And he's said to be even madder than his father.”

“You don't know that for sure.” Sansa countered.

“But I do.” Said aunt Lyanna. “Viserys is mad, Sansa. And if you think that boy would be appeased by the title of your consort then you're sorely mistaken. He wouldn't stand aside while you would rule what he calls his kingdom. Besides, none of the families who helped your father gain the Iron Throne would stand by you if you chose to bring the Targaryens back to power. When we had put an end to the Targaryen rule over Westeros it was done because it was a necessity. No one wants the madness back on the Iron Throne.”

“So we're left with Oberyn, Quentyn or Trystane Martell, Willas or Garlan Tyrell or...” Arya paused for dramatic effect and Sansa realised that the name that would follow could be complete madness or the perfect solution to their dilemma. Or possibly both. “Or Tywin Lannister.”

“You must be joking!” Aunt Lyanna exclaimed. “The Old Lion should marry your sister? Are you out of your senses?”

“No.” Said both Arya and Sansa together. Then the younger sister continued.

“The Great Lion is a complicated person, but at the same time he is not. What he believes mostly in is family, or rather the family name. Yet fate makes a joke out of his own. He's born to a fool of a father, his beloved woman dies and his children and grandchildren are a disappointment to him. Yes, his name is known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. It inspires fear and awe alike. He managed to overcome his father's failure. He rules one of the richest parts of the Realm, but he lacks what he truly wants. A legacy. His eldest son and would-be-heir was at first a Kingsguard to two Kings, then a Queensguard to you. Sworn to celibacy, he cannot inherit his father's title unless you'd release him of his vows. But Ser Jaime would never accept that. If his father forced you to do that, Ser Jaime would hate you both or he'd continue to fight for you despite his father's disapproval. Lady Cersei is yet another source of disappointment to Lord Tywin. She couldn't make use of her marriage to influence the King's best friend. She blames uncle Robert and you, aunt Lyanna, for it, but the truth is that it was her own shortcomings that brought her to where she currently is. She cannot bring up her oldest son to be smart, so he's an idiot who made a spectacle of himself in front of the whole court. And Lord Tyrion. Well, as much as I like him and I think you do too, we both know that Lord Tywin will never forgive him for that day. It doesn't matter that it wasn't Lord Tyrion's fault. As they say: love is blind. Even the one Lord Tywin had.” Arya stopped to drink some of the water that was on Sansa's desk. She didn't bother taking another cup just used Sansa's own. “What Lord Tywin needs is an heir to ensure his name lives on. He has the experience in ruling the Realm that you will sorely need. Although you could still ask for his guidance if he was only your Hand, in such a case your goals would not always be aligned. But if he became your husband then suddenly your goals would also be his. You would have to be strong not to be overshadowed by him, but I think you're strong enough. Furthermore, the support you have because of your family ties, both from family by blood, like us, and by choice, like Danny and Marg, he doesn't have outside the West, so he couldn't be King on his own. You also said yourself that you don't need love in marriage. Some say that his ability to love had ended with Lady Joanna's death, so maybe he couldn't love you, but he could respect you. I think he already does. And as much as they wouldn't accept him as King, people still respect him a lot, so that would serve to bring the stability you so desperately seek.” Arya ended her monologue and for a moment the whole room was silent. Then she added. “However, you have to remember that choosing him might cost you Lord Tyrion's friendship. You cannot have them both. Whichever you choose, the other will be lost to you. No, I don't mean your choosing Lord Tywin to be your Hand. However, if you choose to marry him, then I don't know how Lord Tyrion will react, but you should be prepared to let him go.”

“You cannot be seriously considering this, Sansa!” Exclaimed aunt Lyanna. “He's fifty five! That's five times your own age! You cannot be seriously considering this.” She repeated pleadingly.

“But I can, aunt Lyanna.” Sansa wasn't exactly on board with Arya's plan, but she could definitely see the advantages it entailed. “Thank you for your idea, Arya. I will consider it.”

Aunt Lyanna, however, wasn't going to give up that easily. “How can you even be sure that he can still give you the heirs you both need?”

“Aunt Lyanna! What are you implying? He's fifty, not ninety.” Sansa said with indignation.

“You still should make sure before you decide.” Both Sansa and Arya were too shocked to reply to that, so aunt Lyanna continued. “And you, Arya! How could you propose such a preposterous thing? Would you want to marry the man yourself?”

“I wouldn't. I don't want to marry at all. But me and Sansa have always been very different from one another and Sansa always wanted to be a proper lady. Proper high-born ladies marry proper high-born lords and have high-born children whom they raise to be proper. Yes, Sansa is young, but such an age difference isn't unheard of. Aunt Lysa was almost fifty years younger than her husband.” Arya looked at Sansa. “Anyway, I'll be off. Think about it. I wonder who they will propose tomorrow.”

“Arya, you shouldn't eavesdrop on the Small Council.” Aunt Lyanna chided her.

“Someone has to.” Arya replied and left without any further explanation.

*** * * * * * ***

“Let me be absolutely clear about it.” Aunt Lyanna said at the beginning. “I'm against this whole idea and I will not name a candidate. I think you should wait for the right person that you'll fall in love with.”

“I understand your reservations, Lady Regent. And I absolve you of the obligation of presenting a candidate of your choice.” Sansa said. “We are however gathered here for this purpose. If you want to, you could also be released of your duty here today.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I will stay and make sure that at the very least you don't end up with someone wholly inappropriate.”

Sansa inched her head towards her aunt, thanking her wordlessly. Then she looked at the other people around the room. She knew the order in which she should ask them to speak. She had half a mind to break up with the tradition and ask those whose answers were the hardest to predict, but at the very least she would get an interesting beginning. She wondered who could surprise her with someone she hadn't thought of. Sansa was also curious if anyone would propose Lord Tywin like Arya had.

“Lord Tyrion, as acting Hand of the Queen it's your turn to speak first. Who do you propose I should marry?”

“The candidate I want to propose is Lord Willas Tyrell, Your Grace.” Said Lord Tyrion. Sansa had expected that answer from him. Such an alliance made sense from the political point of view as much as it did from the economical one. She was, however, curious what arguments would Lord Tyrion use to support his choice. “He is the heir to Highgarden, so his position is suitable for the Queen's consort. An allegiance to House Tyrell would also mean that you would have even more family ties with the great Houses which could strengthen your position as Queen. House Tyrell is also rich and even though your father had been careful to keep the royal treasury in a good condition, more financial stability definitely couldn't hurt. As for Lord Willas himself, he's a fine young man, only slightly older than yourself, but is known for his wisdom and many talents.”

“And his bad leg.” Commented Lord Varys.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa said ignoring Lord Varys' interruption. “Does any of you want to express an opinion on the candidate proposed by Lord Tyrion.” She addressed the others looking pointedly at the Master of Whispers.

“Forgive my impulsiveness, Your Grace, but Lord Willas' health is an issue in this discussion. I know it might sound petty, but it should be taken into consideration.”

“Thank you, Lord Varys.” Sansa said and looked at the others.

It was Ser Arthur who spoke next. “My Queen, perhaps it is not very important, but since Lady Margaery is now your ward and Ser Loras is a member of your Queensguard, it might seem like you're favouring one family if you choose to marry another one of them.”

“Whomever you choose, Your Grace, it will look like you chose that person.” Countered Lord Tyrion. “And those who wanted to be chosen and didn't get to be, will be jealous. It's inevitable. The stakes ore too high for it to be any other way.”

Sansa waited for a moment, but since nobody was inclined to say anything more, she asked for the next candidate to be presented. “Ser Arthur, in Ser Barristan's absence, you represent the Queensguard on my Council. I would like to hear your suggestion now.”

“I would like to suggest that you marry Prince Jon, Your Grace. He is of the North like yourself, so the royal line would stay strong with northern blood, but he also has the royal blood of the Targaryens. It would strengthen your rule, Your Grace. I also know that you're in good relations with the Prince.”

But when Ser Arthur made a pause, Sansa shook her head. “We thank you for this suggestion, Ser Arthur, but I must stop you before you go on. Prince Jon is indeed a good friend of mine and therefore I must object, for I know his heart belongs to another and I would never stand between him and his happiness. Especially, since I know that he would marry me despite his love, if I asked him to.” Then Sansa turned her attention to Lord Stannis who was representing Robert. “Lord Stannis, we would gladly hear your suggestion.”

“Your Grace, in my opinion you shouldn't seek strength outside, but within. If you choose to marry someone from the Great Houses you'll create an imbalance of power. Since you cannot marry everyone I'd suggest that you marry a northman. A Karstark, a Manderly, an Umber, perhaps Cley Cerwyn or Daryn Hornwood, maybe Jojen Reed. Marrying someone from the north would strengthen the northern blood in the Royal family. It would also prevent a conflict between the Great Houses if you chose to favour one of them. Whomever from the North you choose, you can be certain of their loyalty and if you choose someone wise they'll help you should you need it.”

“That is not exactly one name, brother.” Lord Renly pointed out when his brother had finished.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” Lord Stannis chose to ignore his brother. “But my point was rather that the name carries little meaning. My candidate is the North and whichever of it's sons you choose.”

“Thank you, Lord Stannis. Does anyone have anything to say to Lord Stannis' proposal?” When no one spoke Sansa asked another person. “Lord Renly, who do you propose?”

“I suggest that you marry Prince Quentyn Martell. You would gain support in the South and it would help mend the relationship between the Crown and Dorne.” Lord Renly cast a significant glance towards Lady Lyanna, but said nothing about Prince Rhaegar. “Prince Quentyn is a few years older than you, Your Grace. He is known to be sensible and dutiful. And if he does not please you, Your Grace, he has a younger brother whom you could also consider.”

“But they are both still boys, Your Grace.” Protested Lord Tyrion. “And while it could help the relationship between your Houses there's also the question of whether Prince Doran would even agree to such a match. Martells don't have good experience when it comes to sending their children to King's Landing and while he could probably agree to have your sister as wife to one of his sons in Dorne, I doubt he'd be thrilled at the prospect of sending his son off to the capital.”

“Lord Tyrion is right, Your Grace.” Lord Renly admitted. “It would require hard work to bring such a match about, but I have no doubt it could be accomplished if you so wished.”

“Thank you, Lord Renly. Lord Baelish, which candidate have you chosen?” Sansa asked. When she looked into his eyes she was worried for a moment that he would propose to her there and then. She knew that he wanted to.

“I think that you shouldn't look far, Your Grace. Robin Arryn might be your cousin, but he's a good lad and he will rule over the Vale. His father was your father's Hand and his mother is your mother's sister.”

“The boy is five!” Lady Lyanna exclaimed. “He will make no Lord in years and he would be a poor choice for a consort.”

“The boy will grow up to be his parents' son. Strong and respected.” Lord Baelish countered.

“But until then he would make no better consort than your brother Prince Rickon would a King, Your Grace.” Said Lord Renly. “No offence to your brother, but he prefers playing with his direwolf than learning or fighting.”

Sansa considered for a moment why Lord Baelish would propose such an odd match. It made little sense, but she would have to leave the topic for later.

“Thank you, Lord Baelish. Lord Varys, whom do you propose?”

“I admit that it's a hard task you've asked of your advisors. Especially, since our choices reveal a lot about our intentions and strategies. My intention would be to avoid war. Not the war that is happening right now, since it's inevitable for one, but more importantly it's quite insignificant. I would want the Seven Kingdoms to avoid the war that will come from the east. Here's my proposal: marry Prince Viserys.”

“But the boy is mad! And he is of little significance to anyone but himself.” Lady Lyanna argued.

“Yes, the boy might be mad, but there are still those who believe him to be the rightful King. At the same time he is no more than a faint shade of his grand ancestors. You would have to play him carefully, but it could finally bring the Seven Kingdoms to be at peace.”

“I'm sorry, Lord Varys, but I'll have to dismiss your proposal at this point. I cannot allow for madness to return to the Iron Throne. I cannot let anyone share the fate of my grandfather and my uncle.” Sansa knew she had thought of the same, but she had not known that Prince Viserys was mad. The Spider had to know. So why would he propose this? Maybe he really thought that she could control the mad boy, but Sansa wasn't going to take such chances. “Grand Maester, what is your suggestion?”

“I haven't really been here long, Your Grace, so I don't know the people you'd been talking about, I only know of them. But I have made some calculations and looking at the map it seemed quite obvious. I propose that you marry Lord Tywin Lannister.”

“How in the Seven Hells could that conclusion be obvious to you?” Lord Tyrion exclaimed.

Sansa herself was shocked. When Arya talked about it, Sansa saw sense in her sister's plans, but to have someone else mention it, was very strange. And it wasn't someone whom she could suspect of having an agenda. Maester Samwell owed nothing to noone, but the Citadel and Sansa's late father. She really wanted to hear his explanation.

“Well it is pretty obvious that the North, the Vale and the Riverlands are tied to you by blood one way or another, Your Grace. The Reach has two of their children at your court. The Stormlands are at your side as long as Lord Robert Baratheon is alive. Had he been a different person, you would have probably married Lord Baratheon's son, but now that he's all but banished from court that cannot happen. Even the remaining Targaryens are at your side. At least those who count.” Grand Maester chanced a look at Lord Varys, but then looked away quickly. So that was why people called him a coward. Yet at the same time his proposal was a daring one if ever she heard one. “The parts that remain are: Dorne, Iron Islands and Westerlands. Dorne has already been discussed and I do agree that it would be hard to convince Prince Doran to send his son here. Moreover, the boy lacks the strength you need to help rule your Realm. House Greyjoy was always out of the question. And while it is true that you all but appointed Lord Tywin your Hand, that doesn't mean that the West is at your side. By marriage, however, it would be.”

Sansa could see it clearly then. The intelligence her father had noticed. The clarity of this calculation which yielded only one acceptable result.

“Does anyone want to comment on Grand Maester's words?” She asked.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Said Lord Tyrion. “You cannot treat this proposition seriously.”

“Why not?” Asked the Maester. “Lord Lannister has an appropriate position, he is wealthy and most importantly he is a man of great wisdom. He's an incredible strategist and a fearful warrior.”

“All of that is true.” Replied Lord Tyrion. “But have you ever met him or does your knowledge come from your precious books?”

“Indeed I have not met Lord Lannister, but...”

“Then that settles it. If you had met my father you'd have known your proposal was a preposterous one.” Lord Tyrion said.

“Have you?” Maester Samwell replied. When Lord Tyrion looked at the young man incredulous, the Maester asked him again. “Have you ever been able to meet your father without being prejudiced against him?”

Lord Tyrion looked shocked, but he collected himself quickly. “Let's assume.” He said. “For the sake of this conversation that I've misjudged my father. What do you think would persuade my him to ever marry again?”

The Grand Maester didn't have an answer for that. Or did he? He said nothing, but he slowly looked Lord Tyrion over. At this point, however, Sansa had seen enough.

“If you're done, my Lords.” She looked pointedly at the Grand Maester and the acting Hand. “Thank you all for your wise council and your suggestions. I shall think this matter over, but I shall not give my answer on this before my coronation.”


	19. Field Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery sneaks out, but it's not what you think.
> 
> She is attacked, but it's not what she thinks.
> 
> Sansa has an idea some will hate her for.

Leaving the Red Keep wasn't hard. The guards usually didn't pay much attention to those who went out since they didn't want to bother someone important. Going back inside. That was a whole different matter. Still... Margaery was used to it by now and she was pretty certain she would succeed this time too.

Since the King's death Margaery's life had changed quite a lot. She had been brought up in the Reach till she was five and then sent to the court to be the Crown's ward and to serve as a companion to the Princess Sansa. When she was a little older she was told that she should make every effort to be able to marry the Crown Prince. Her grandma had told her that the Prince would soon have to be engaged and that Margaery could one day become Queen. And which young girl didn't like the thought of becoming the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms? Well she supposed Sansa didn't, but that was a special case. However, Margaery soon realised that her grandma's task would be an easy one. She had liked Prince Robb since she arrived in the capital. With Sansa being too young to really play with, though Margaery liked helping to take care of her, she sometimes joined Robb to play. As they grew up companionship turned into a true feeling and they would sometimes sneak off and kiss somewhere. They didn't have sex since Robb insisted it would be dishonourable to treat her that way. They weren't officially engaged, but they were spoken for, since Robb told her he would marry no other and she had no problem believing his words. When Margaery learned of Robb's death she was very grieved. She would miss Queen Catelyn who was always kind and whom Margaery looked up to. She would also miss King Eddard who was a good man and always made time to spend with his children and wards despite his numerous duties. She would also miss the late Hand who was a quiet and busy man, but who always found time for those who sought his counsel. Yet the one she would miss most was Robb. Unlike her grandmother, Margaery didn't despair that she wouldn't be Queen anymore. She knew that the crown was in good hands, but she grieved for the love she had lost.

Margaery's relationship with Sansa also inevitably changed. Although Sansa did still spend time with her and Danny, both when they were being tutored and privately, she had so many duties nowadays that there was simply not enough time for her to do as she pleased. Margaery understood her friend's desire not to fail the trust Sansa's father had placed in her, but sometimes she wished Sansa was a little less selfless.

Margaery walked past the guards at the gate at a normal pace, so as not to arise suspicion. As she walked further and further from the Red Keep she got to places where a young lady should never walk, especially alone, when dusk was coming soon. But her heart was still heavy and if the Stranger came for her, she wouldn't mind greatly. She knew that death wasn't the only thing that could happen to her. She wasn't stupid. But the city was peaceful thanks to the fair reign of King Eddard and the people running away from the war hadn't yet reached the capital. Still when she got away from the main streets she whispered a prayer to the Maiden for her protection and she breathed lighter when she finally got to the place which was her destination. She knocked on a wooden door.

“Who's there?” Asked a voice from behind it.

“It's me. Alys.” Margaery replied.

“Oh! Pardon me, my lady. It's quite late even for one of your visits.” Said the voice and Margaery could hear the sound of the key being turned. Then the door opened showing a corpulent, friendly looking woman in her mid forties.

“I told you that I'm no lady, Beth.” Margaery said, but smiled at the woman.

“Yes, yes. Well you're still better off than a commoner and to them you're as grand as the Queen herself.” The woman replied. “Well go on then. They've been waiting for you impatiently this week.”

“I know. I'm sorry couldn't come sooner.”

“It's quite alright, my lady.”

Margaery shook her head slightly hearing the title again, but she allowed the woman to usher her inside. It wasn't that she didn't trust Bethany or other people here to keep her secret, but she just didn't want everyone to know who she was. That was why she had invented the persona of Alys Flowers, a bastard girl from the Reach living with her noble family in the capital.

When she entered the room she was welcomed by a chorus of happy voices. There were twenty four children in the little orphanage and all were excited to see her.

“Lady Alys!” The children exclaimed as they jumped out of their beds and came to hug her. Even the elder ones who liked to act more maturely came to greet her merrily.

“Hello, everyone. How have you been? Have you been eating your meals without complaints? Have you been good to Beth?” Margaery asked. The response she got was a lot of 'ays' and 'yeahs'. “Very well then. I brought you a some things.” Margaery began to take things out form her bag. “Blood oranges, not many, but enough for everyone to get a piece, some biscuits and ham. I'm sorry I couldn't bring more.” She said, but her words disappeared in the thanks that came from around the room. Margaery had bought all the products with the spending money she got. She couldn't smuggle much past the guards or they could think she was a thief. “It's alright. I didn't do it to be thanked. You'll have your feast in the morning.” She smiled at them suddenly overwhelmed by their gratitude. “Now everyone to your pallets!” Margaery ordered and every single child complied instantly. “I brought you something special today, she said taking the book out of the bag. It was one of Arya's favourite and Margaery thought these children would appreciate it too. “It's a story about Aegon and his sisters. And of course their dragons.” At the word dragons there was a collective sigh of wonder.

Margaery began reading and two dozen pairs of ears were hanging on her every word. As she read, slowly the afternoon turned to evening and the children's eyelids slowly became heavy. When she came to a point in the story that concluded a certain part and the light from outside was becoming scarce, she stopped and bid the children good night. She quietly walked to the other room where Bethany was mending some torn clothes.

“You're so good to us, my lady.” The woman said.

“No, Beth. You're the good one here. You give those children your time and care.” Margaery countered. She took out the money she hadn't spent on the food and handed it to Beth. “Here, take this and buy what you need most. I couldn't bring more food, but I brought the fruit so that they would have a more diverse diet.”

“Caring for them is my atonement, lady. And your time is far more precious that the likes of me. Besides all I can give them is roof over their heads, some food in their bellies and old rags to wear.” She gestured at the material she was holding. “But you, lady. You bring them knowledge. You give them things to dream of. You bring them hope. Hope is food for soul and that's always more important than food in your belly.”

Margaery didn't have an easy answer to that. “I'll come back when I can. Take care. Of yourself too, Beth.”

“Be careful, lady. It's a bad hour to be out alone.” Said Beth. The evening was falling fast outside.

“I'll be alright.” Margaery replied though the words held more certainty than she truly felt. She whispered a prayer to the Seven again and disappeared into the streets.

Margaery had stumbled across Beth's orphanage by chance. One afternoon, not long after the funeral she had been particularly sorrowful and she just walked out of the Red Keep. She had been surprised by how easy it was and she let her feet carry her on and on till she involuntarily reached Flea Bottom. There she met some children who, seeing that she was richly dressed, asked her for money or food. Margaery had nothing with her, but a small tome of poetry she had taken to read if she found a quiet place. She told the children that much. When they asked her what the book was about, Margaery sat where she stood and began reading to them. The way those children looked at her when she read to them was incredible. True, they were probably hungry, they were wearing rags and only the Seven knew if they had a place to sleep, but the way their eyes lit up when they were listening to the words she read was astonishing. They probably didn't even understand half of what she was reading, but that didn't matter. She realised that they've probably never had a story read to them in their entire lives. That day when the sun was low enough that she couldn't read anymore the children begged her to visit them again and so she had.

This evening she was only few corners from the orphanage when she noticed two figures coming towards her. Margaery turned quickly, only to find another person coming from behind her. She was trapped.

“Give us your bag or we'll have to take it.” Said one of the men, trying and failing to sound polite.

Margaery handed her bag over. At least she had already given the money and goods to Beth and the children. The book itself was precious too, but she couldn't do anything about it now. The question now was whether they would limit themselves to robbery or would they want to take more. Margaery wouldn't go down without a good fight, but she knew a girl of fourteen with little combat training was no match for three adult men.

The man grabbed her bag, took out the book and... stopped.

“You're her.” He said, his voice almost accusatory. “You're the lady who reads to Beth's children.” He stated.

Since there was no point denying it with the evidence in their hands, Margaery admitted. “I am.” There was no point arguing that her persona was no lady.

The man instantly put the book back into the bag and held it towards her. “I'm sorry, m'lady. We didn't know. You shouldn't be out here alone.” When she hesitantly took the bag back from him, he added. “Please, let us escort you to a better district. It's not safe here.”

Margaery didn't point out that it had been them who tried to rob her not a minute before. “Thank you.” She said instead.

 _So the Seven were indeed merciful to me._ Margaery thought walking with her escort towards the Red Keep. Now the only problem was to dismiss her guards of honour before they realised where exactly she was headed. The problem solved itself when they drew nearer. Seeing a group of gold cloaks her guards decided to make themselves scarce.

“You'll be safe now m'lady.” Said the man who had searched her bag. “And if anyone ever gives you trouble in Flea Bottom, tell them Rygar the Red will have their head. Use those words and you shall be safe.”

“Thank you.” Margaery replied a little shocked.

“No. Thank you, m'lady. Now go!” He said and all three of them disappeared into the shadows.

Margaery, still perplexed, walked on, hoping to pass the guards without any trouble. This time, however, her hoping was in vain.

“Who goes there?” Asked the captain of the soldiers. When she walked closer and lifted her hood he exclaimed. “Lady Margaery! Thank the Seven we found you!”

“Why? Has something happened?” She asked suddenly worried. Was Sansa alright? Was Danny? Maybe her brother was hurt? Or maybe Arya, Bran or Rickon?

“You were gone. The Queen was worried and sent us to search for you.” He explained.

“I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make anyone worried.” Margaery said. She had planned her trips on afternoons when she knew that Sansa would be busy with a Small Council meeting or other duties. What could make dutiful Sansa finish her work early and seek Margaery's company when she was supposed to be busy?

“We'll escort you back, my lady.” The captain said.

And so she was being escorted for a second time that night, but this time her escort stayed with her till they walked into the Red Keep and only stopped in front of the Queen's chambers. The servant on the door announced her and she was admitted to the rooms and led to the solar along with the captain. Sansa was sitting patiently behind her desk. She calmly thanked the captain and allowed him to leave. However, as soon as the door was closed behind the man, Sansa was on her feet. A few steps later she was holding Margaery in a tight hug.

“You had me worried sick, Marg!” Sansa exclaimed, though she remembered to keep her voice low. “Where have you been?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't intend to worry you, San.” Margaery explained, overwhelmed by the strength of her friend's relief. “What made you finish early?”

“So that's how it is? You sneak out when you know I'm busy? And I won't answer your question till you answer mine.” Sansa said. “But first... Danny!”

Daenerys came in quickly. She must have been waiting in Sansa's private sitting room, so as not to disturb Sansa while she worked in her solar.

“I'm so glad you're back, Marg! What have you been thinking?” Daenerys asked.

“So I'm a prisoner here who cannot even go out?” Margaery was suddenly feeling defensive. “Your sister Arya has more freedom, even though she's a Princess.”

“Of course you're not a prisoner, Marg. You can go anywhere you want. Well... almost. But we'd like to know when you go. That's what families do, you know?” Sansa looked Margaery deep in the eyes. “They inform each other of their plans, so that other members wouldn't be unnecessarily worried.”

Margaery felt very stupid then. “I'm sorry, San, Danny. Come sit with me and I'll tell you about it.”

They all sat down and Margaery told her tale from the very beginning. She left nothing out. Not her sadness after Robb's death, not her indifference towards her own possible demise, not the exact description of the children and the conditions they lived in. Sansa and Daenerys sat with her listening to her every word, but if they had questions, they kept them for later. When she was finally done the three of them hugged and sat in silence for a long while.

“That explains all the strange purchases you've made. And to think that for some time I thought that you simply had cravings.” Sansa blushed. “I thought that you had managed to convince Robb to sleep with you and that you were pregnant.” Margaery had complained about Robb being a prude, so many times that it was no secret among the three friends that she wanted to consummate their future marriage a little bit prematurely. “But I don't understand.” Said Sansa later. “My father had established orphanages in King's Landing, taking care that they were properly funded and their needs catered to. Why aren't those children in one of such places?”

“It turns out they won't accept children from Flea Bottom because they say these children are dirty thieves.” Margaery said solemnly. “So maybe they sometimes steal something to eat when they are hungry, but they are good children and whatever they have they share with each other, taking care of the smallest and the weakest. Beth does as much as she can, but she can only do so much for them.”

“Oh, Marg. I wish you had come to me earlier with it. I understand that it was as much therapeutic for you as it was helping them, but you could have come to me. Now, there will be work to be done, I see. What would say if I put you in charge of the Crown's charity funds? I know it would mean working with Baelish, but you could call the shots and answer to me only. I would have you inspect orphanages, homeless shelters and sick houses and see if any alterations are required.”

“But I didn't want them to know my name. I didn't want people to think I was doing it for publicity or fame.” Margaery protested.

“I know you didn't. You wanted it to be about them and not you. We understand.” Said Danny. “But think about what Sansa is proposing. Think big, Marg. You could change the lives of so many.”

“Will I be able to go back and read to them again?” Margaery asked.

“If you want you can even open a place where you'll teach them to read on their own if they want to. You could hire tutors and teach them some basic reading, writing and calculus. That way in future they'd have a better chance of finding better work. And of course you can go and read to them.” Sansa smiled genuinely at her friend. “What do you say, Marg?”

“I say that it's time for a change.”

“Oh and as for your question... I'm getting married.” Sansa said playfully.

“You're what?!”


	20. Not Ending with Blood, but Beginning There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys receives a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that George Martin shortens Daenerys to Dany, but I prefer the double-n'ed version, so sue me ;-)

When Sansa's servant came looking for Daenerys and told her the Queen wanted to see her, the girl thought that somehow Sansa had learnt to read minds. Yet it appeared that there was something heavy weighing Sansa's heart similar to the way Danny felt herself. In all the commotion concerning Margaery's disappearance, her reappearance, her story, Sansa's own confession and their discussion about it, Daenerys had pushed her own worries to the back of her mind. When she was back in her chamber, however, there was nothing stopping her from thinking of the piece of parchment that was lying in the drawer of her nightstand.

If only Jon was here to talk to. Danny remembered how he came to her the night after news of war came. It was late already, but Daenerys couldn't sleep and maybe it was for the better for had she been asleep, she would have missed the delicate knocking on the door of her chamber. She quickly got up, threw a robe on and went to the door. She knocked a special rhythm on it and sure enough back came the right answer. Daenerys opened the door and let the person waiting outside in.

“It's really late.” She said when the door was closed behind her visitor.

“I know, but I couldn't sneak out earlier and I wanted to see you. We'll be leaving as soon as dawn breaks, so there won't be any time in the morning.” Jon said.

“Must you really go?” She asked him. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn't help the desire to have him close. “You've only just arrived.”

“There's a war going on and my father will be leaving to lead the northern forces to battle. Would you really have me stay here while other men go to war?” He asked her.

“Men, Jon. You're hardly more than a boy yourself.” She replied.

“Is that who you see me for?” He asked sounding a little hurt.

“No.” Danny admitted. “But if I could, I would put on an armour and go in your stead. I want you safe.”

She sat down on the bed and he sat next to her hugging her. She let herself be enveloped in his strength for a while before she pulled back.

“We shouldn't, Jon.” She said, though her heart wished for nothing else but to give in.

“Tell me you don't love me and I'll go and never return.” He declared.

“That's not fair. You know it's not. You know I love you, but the curse...” Daenerys couldn't finish.

“There is no curse.” Jon said stubbornly like he always did.

“Madness runs through our family because of close relatives marrying one another. Yes, your mother did bring some fresh blood to the line, but could it be enough for our hypothetical children to avoid the curse?”

“I don't know, Danny. What I know is that I love you. I love you enough to let you go if you think it will be best.” He admitted. “I just wanted to say goodbye, you know? In case I don't return.”

Oh he knew the ways to manipulate her. And yet Danny didn't really want to fight him. Their feeling was a strong one and even though her fears were strong too, they melted away whenever he was near.

At the moment, however, Jon was far away going off to war and Daenerys had no one to talk to about her dilemma. Sansa had been so burdened with her problems and with Margaery's disappearance that Daenerys couldn't bring herself to talk about her own problems. Especially, since Daenerys wasn't sure how Sansa would react. She knew that her friend Sansa would be sympathetic, but what would Queen Sansa say? Daenerys couldn't forget that Sansa wasn't the same girl she used to be. At least not only.

Daenerys had been born when the Seven Kingdoms were at war. Her father had sent his pregnant wife and his younger son to Dragonstone so they could be safe. Danny's mother died soon after giving birth to her on a night of a great storm. Or so Danny was told since she had no way of remembering it. But the rebels found them there too. In a last desperate act Ser Willem Darry and a few of his trusted men tried to smuggle Prince Viserys and her out of Dragonstone, but they succeeded only in half. Later she was told that it was her crying that had saved her or damned her, depending on the perspective. Her wet nurse had taken her away from the nursery to help her fall asleep after Danny had been crying for hours and that was when the attempted 'rescue' happened. Before Ser Willem and his men could find Danny they realised the new King's forces were upon them and they fled, leaving Daenerys to what they had to think would be her death. And perhaps it would have been had the King not come personally to Dragonstone. Yes, he probably wanted to have her and her brother in his power, but by coming he might have saved Danny's life.

King Eddard and Queen Catelyn were always kind to Daenerys. Regardless if it was dresses and necklaces or attention and affection, nothing that Sansa and the other Stark children had, did Danny lack. When she was too young to understand she would even call the Starks her parents. That ended when she was about five, she had done so in public, one courtier had heard her and they made a scene. The King dismissed that person from the court, took Danny to his solar and explained everything, as well as he could to a five-year-old. He answered all her questions and kept nothing out. After that for quite some time Danny was afraid that things would change, that her foster parents would begin to treat her differently, but it never happened. They were affectionate and caring as always. Sometimes in the dead of the night Daenerys felt like a traitor to her family. She was alive and living well, while her parents were dead and one of her brothers was far away. Moreover, she was living with the people who took her parents' place at the head of the Realm, the man who killed her father was a member of the Kingsguard and now the Queensguard. Yet Danny believed in the story the King had told her, later she had it confirmed by her brother Rhaegar, and she couldn't bring herself to hate the King and his family. Her family. Her other family at the very least. However, after that day she had never again called the Starks her parents out loud. The only real difference was that she became wary whenever Ser Jaime was in the room. Yes, she understood his reasons, but he was still her father's killer. Though at the same time she was her mother's. Yes, she knew that women died in childbirth, but the thought lingered at the back of her mind.

The King had searched for her other brother – Viserys for years, but with little success. Despite what people sometimes murmured when they thought she couldn't hear, she didn't believe that the King wanted to kill her brother. She didn't believe him capable of that. She understood that while Viserys remained on the run, he was a threat to King Eddard's rule, yet not as big a one as some would fashion him. The common people loved King Eddard because he brought peace and he was just. The nobles had their own agendas, but they knew that he was a far better King than Danny's father had been and, if the rumours were true, than her brother would ever be. Danny knew that her living with the King's family was in part to control her and that they wanted the same for Viserys, but she didn't really mind. She had a normal childhood, she was treated like the Princess she was and she had a loving family, even if it wasn't by blood.

Now, however, there was a letter from Viserys, or someone who claimed to be him, in the drawer of her nightstand. 

_Sweet Sister,_

_How I have missed you. I know you were too young when we were separated to remember me, but there wasn't a day that I haven't thought of you. For years I have been running away from the King's men fearing that they were sent to kill me. However, I've heard that the times have changed, that there is a new Queen, one that is said to be like a sister to you, my sweet sister. Those news made me wonder if maybe there could be a chance for a reconciliation. I have missed you and our brother dearly. I would like to return home, but I still fear for my life. Not from the Queen herself if she's like a sister to you, but from people who would gladly murder me thinking this would gain them favour with the Queen. That could happen if I arrived in King's Landing alone, but if you would come to me and we would arrive together then I believe we'd be safe. I therefore bid you come to me so that we could return home together. My messenger will await your arrival in Pentos and will later tell you how to meet me. I'm sorry for the secrecy, but I fear this letter falling into wrong hands._

_Your loving brother,_

_Viserys_

Danny's mind was screaming at her that it was some sort of deception or maybe even a trap, but her heart yearned to see her brother returned safely to Westeros. Would Sansa even allow Danny to go to Pentos? It wasn't that far, if the winds were favourable she could be back in a week with her brother. If things went wrong... Danny knew she ought to think about it, but she just couldn't. Besides what choice did she really have but to try and convince Sansa to let her go? This could be her one opportunity of getting her brother back. Such thoughts kept Danny awake for a long time.

When she finally fell asleep she dreamt of her brother. He looked like a younger version of her brother Rhaegar and she instantly knew it was Viserys. He was beckoning for her to come to him and then a flame engulfed them both. When the flames went out, where her brother had stood she saw a dragon. It was black as the blackest night with wings and spikes touched with crimson. Daenerys could feel that the dragon wanted her to come to him. How could she refuse? But when she got closer to him the dream suddenly ended and Danny woke. It was just about to dawn and she was still tired, but she couldn't fall asleep again. Regardless whether the dragon had been her brother or not, it was calling for her and such a summon she dared not refuse.

Daenerys rose early and looked about her chambers. There weren't many things she would like to take with her if Sansa allowed her to go. The maids would take care of her dresses and jewels so that she would look like a Princess should, but when she looked at personal objects there weren't that many she cared for. One object Danny would not bear to leave behind, no matter how short her absence, was a dragon bracelet she had received from Sansa for her previous birthday. It was an intricate piece made of silver and encrusted with purple dragonglass that matched Danny's eyes perfectly. She also prepared some books, parchment and quills. She didn't need much more. When she was done it was late enough to break fast. There she would meet Sansa and talk to her.

When Danny entered the hall she saw that Sansa was already there chatting away with Arya. Since the tragical incident the two sisters became closer and it was pleasant to see them so friendly with each other. That day, however, Danny would have preferred if Sansa were alone. Behind the Queen stood one of her Queensguards whom Danny recognised as Ser Jorah when she walked closer. The last person in the hall was Faye – Sansa's food taster. Grey Wind, Lady and Nymeria were also there, each one in a separate corner chewing some meat and crushing bones with their big teeth.

Daenerys greeted everyone and sat down to eat as she would on any other day. The meal consisted mainly of fruits and snacks. There was a variety of pastries and cakes that could be eaten in no more than two bites. Morning meals weren't something that was practised in the Seven Kingdoms, but it was a custom King Eddard established in the Royal family when he realised how little time he had for his family because of his daily duties. Regardless of how busy their days were the Stark family, which also included the King's wards, would meet everyday to share a morning meal. Everyone arrived at their own time, but eventually at some point everyone would be there before they left for their duties. It was also a place where they were at ease with each other since no protocol was required.

“You seem pensive today, Danny.” Sansa observed focusing her attention on her friend.

“I'd like to talk to you about something personal, San.” Daenerys admitted knowing she couldn't put it off any longer.

“I'll make myself scarce then.” Arya suggested.

Danny felt utterly grateful though at the same time a little bit guilty for sending Arya away. “You don't have to...”

Arya cut her off. “Don't worry. I left Needle in my room and I shouldn't walk anywhere without it. I'll go fetch it and come back in say... 10 minutes.” And with that she was out off the room in a second.

At the same time Margaery walked in, but her presence didn't bother Danny. Margaery had shared her problems with her friends and now it was Danny's turn.

“Come, Marg.” Said Sansa. “Looks like today it's Danny's turn to share her troubles.”

Margaery greeted everyone and sat close to her friends looking at Danny expectantly. Suddenly, Daenerys didn't know how to begin though she had thought about it since she received the message.

“I got this yesterday.” She admitted and showed the letter to her friends.

They sat in silence reading the words. Daenerys was nervous, but she managed to keep calm.

“You want to go to Pentos.” Sansa stated and though it wasn't a question Danny nodded anyway. When she heard the next few words her heart nearly stopped. “I can't let you go alone.” At that last word Danny let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. “You thought I would stop you going?”

“It's a risk.” Danny admitted. She didn't elaborate. They all knew exactly what she meant.

“Then it's a risk I'm willing to take, Danny. He's your brother and if there's an off chance that you'll get him back then you need to take it if you want to.” Sansa insisted. “You know that my father looked for your brother all those years to allow the two of you to be reunited, right?”

“I know, San.” Danny replied.

“Oh, Danny.” Margaery interjected. “You needn't have worried about Sansa's answer. She might be a Stark, but she can't deny the Tully blood in her veins, not that she would or should wish to. Family, Duty, Honour.”

“Family, Duty, Honour.” Sansa repeated.

“I knew Sansa would support my plea. So would Princess Sansa. But Queen Sansa cannot always abide by the same rules.” Danny looked Sansa in the eyes. “As Queen you must sometimes do things and choose paths that are hard for you. For the good of the Realm.”

“Are you trying to persuade me to stop you?” Sansa asked, but her tone wasn't serious.

“No, I'm trying to explain that I never doubted you. I was saying I'd understand if you did.”

“You can go. But not alone. If I could I'd send an army with you to protect you, but I cannot. For one, my armies are at war. Besides, I cannot start a war with the Free Cities. That's why I'm sending Ser Jorah with you.” Sansa explained.

To his credit, Ser Jorah didn't even raise an eyebrow at the Queen's declaration. Danny, however, was quite surprised.

“But, San. Ser Jorah is your Queensguard...” Daenerys tried to protest.

“One of the very finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms. I know, Danny. Who better to protect my sister on her possibly perilous journey?” Sansa asked seemingly oblivious to the matter that worried Danny.

“But who will protect you, San?” Danny asked.

“She's got a point, San.” Margaery added. “Your Queensguard is supposed to protect you.”

“I see your point, Marg, Danny. It's true that no one could ever replace Ser Jorah, but I have six more Queensguards and I have other guards and soldiers. I cannot send an army with you Danny, but I need to make sure you're safe.” Sansa then addressed her Queensguard. “Ser Jorah, I need you to accompany my sister on her journey to Pentos. I need you to guard her just as you would guard me.”

“Of course, my Queen.” The knight replied.

“But San...” Danny wasn't done arguing just yet. She was glad for the protection Sansa was offering since she knew that Ser Jorah was an excellent swordsman, but... “The implications of sending one of your royal Queensguard with me...”

“You are a Princess of royal blood. Furthermore, you are my sister and officially you're my ward. It's my duty to make sure you're safe. Now enough protesting. I need you both to listen. If everything goes smoothly then you'll be back in a week or two with Prince Viserys. Yet, should something happen... I need you both to promise that you'll do everything in your powers to stay alive and safe. Not that you'll return to me, that is secondary, though I will await your return. But my first priority is your safety and well-being.” Sansa said seriously. “I wish I could be sure that what Prince Viserys wrote is true, that he truly wants to reconcile with us and be reunited with his family. However, the naïve girl who would have believed such words at face value had to go when my father named me Queen. I wish it to be true, but if it's not, if Viserys proves to be mad like people say he is, I need you both to make your safety is your priority. If you have to pretend that you hate me and want to help him overthrow me in order to stay safe, then it's your duty to do so. I would not fault you for it. Never.”

“But that would be treason, Your Grace.” Ser Jorah opposed.

“I wouldn't care if it were. Besides if you stay true in your heart then the only person you'd be deceiving is him. And even if you were really to betray me... I would prefer it, to having you harmed.”

The worry in Sansa's voice was so genuine that it helped crystal Danny's resolution. She would do what Sansa asked. Meeting with the Stranger was not Danny's priority so she would try to keep herself, and Ser Jorah if she could, safe. However, she wanted Sansa to know that betrayal was not an option in their relationship. Not ever. Danny would never willingly betray Sansa.

“Ser Jorah swore you an oath.” Danny reminded. “Yet I have not.” She rose from her chair and walked towards Sansa, then she knelt before the Queen. “I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, pledge my life and honour, my loyalty and obedience to Sansa of House Stark, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

Sansa took Danny's hands between her own. “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, meat and mead at my table, and I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise.”

Sansa helped Danny up and there was something symbolic in that gesture. Daenerys knew that what she did was right. It felt right. Yet there was something very irrevocable about the act itself. Not that Danny regretted having done it. It just felt so serious, so mature. The girl in her was screaming that it was too mature. Danny knew it was necessary, but that helped only a little bit.

“If I'm back in time for your coronation, I'll gladly repeat that before everyone, but I wanted you to know for certain that my allegiance will always be to you.”

“Thank you. Now before you go I want you to talk to Lord Varys. He'll share with you all the rumours about your brother and what you might expect. There will be a ship ready for you this afternoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title refers to a saying that "Family doesn't end with blood.". Which by the way is a quote from Supernatural. Which I didn't know. I mean I knew I heard it there, but I thought it was a regular saying. It isn't. Anyway I like it. BTW the original quote was a bit different, but it was grammatically incorrect, so I couldn't bear to rewrite it...


	21. There and Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TORTURE. If it's triggering to you, don't read it.

Riding to the Westerlands was uneventful, but Tywin was hardly one to complain. He wasn't a youngster, eager for adventures on the road. He was actually grateful that nothing had happened. Travelling fast wasn't a problem for someone who could afford it. They often changed horses so that they could travel at a greater speed. They stayed in the inns whenever it was possible. Another thing that came with money was comfort. There wasn't a situation in which there were no rooms for Tywin and his companions and it wasn't for lack of travellers.

Even though the Seven Kingdoms were huge, from the very beginning of their journey it was possible to notice that there was a war underway. There were already common people travelling south to avoid being caught between the armies and merchants who travelled that way to protect their goods. In contrast to those there were also people moving towards the ongoing conflict. Some were sellswords looking for work, others were merchants who sought to profit from the conflict by providing supplies for the armies and the other group were courtesans travelling to provide their services to the soldiers.

The further Tywin's party went, the more obvious those signs became. They were travelling fast, but Tywin didn't force his men to keep the maximum speed. He was exchanging ravens with Kevan and knew already that the situation wasn't bad. Tywin had been alarmed having heard that the Greyjoys had rebelled once again. True, they had lost the last time, but they still managed to burn a good part of Lannisport and Tywin wouldn't like a repetition of those events.

Whenever Tywin's party reached a town, a bigger village or a more important inn, Tywin received messages from both the capital and the Westerlands. Kevan had mobilised the Lannister army and informed Tywin of their movements and the little he knew of those of the enemy. Tyrion sent reports of Small Council meetings and the most important events at court.

From his communications with the Queen, Tywin knew that Prince Rhaegar was sailing north to take control of the Northern army, Lord Hoster was travelling to Riverrun to lead his troops, Ser Barristan was leading the royal army and Robert was was sailing with the royal navy.

Tywin thought all of it a little bit too excessive. He had departed with haste because he was concerned that there would be a repeat of the events from the last Greyjoy rebellion in Lannisport, but he expected the conflict to be over before they all arrived. True there was a point to it. It was a manifestation of strength and unity to have so many Houses fight for the same cause.

Tywin found his younger son's reports to be annoying. They were way too long and written with words one would use for poetry or epic tales. Yet as much as their style annoyed him, Tywin needed to read them to be updated on what was happening in King's Landing.

Tywin was also irritated when he learnt that Tyrion proposed that the Queen should choose a consort. Such moves shouldn't be undertaken recklessly and without careful planning. Whomever the Queen chose, because in Tywin's mind there was no doubt that she would be the one to make the final decision, would try to fight Tywin for influence over the Queen and Tywin would have liked to have more time to shape her mind in his own mind's image. Fortunately, the Queen didn't seem to be in a hurry to get married which suggested that on the one hand she wasn't in love with anyone, which was consistent with Tywin's own observations, and that on the other hand she hadn't probably come to a final decision yet. Maybe she even wanted to hear Tywin's opinion on the subject?

Tywin considered the proposals of all of the Small Council members. He wasn't surprised by Tyrion's choice. Tywin had to admit that it was quite a cunning idea and a solution he probably would have chosen himself if he were to name a candidate in that meeting. The Tyrells already had a lot of influence over the young Queen, so if she married Lord Willas, the power wouldn't shift that much among the Houses. Since the Queen herself had dismissed it, Tywin ignored Ser Arthur's proposal, though he made a mental note to investigate the matter a bit more thoroughly. Lord Stannis' proposal also failed to surprise Tywin, but it was definitely the best out of all proposals made in that meeting. Lord Renly's choice was not without thought, but the obvious flaws were too significant to ignore. Baelish's proposal was so absurd that Tywin didn't spare it one thought, but Tywin knew that Littlefinger was not so foolish to propose something like that without there being a hidden plan behind it. Varys' choice was an odd one too and Tywin would have to consider it closely, but the proposal itself was worth next to nothing and the Queen was wise to dismiss it.

When Tywin first read of the new Grand Maester's proposal his reaction was a little bit of astonishment mixed with a lot of anger. Tywin's name wasn't to be used in other man's political games. At the same time the Grand Maester didn't seem to be someone who had an agenda. When Tywin's anger subsided he simply dismissed the idea as the ramblings of a scholar who had no idea what the world was like outside of his books. Tywin didn't want to analyse his own thoughts on the subject. There was no real need to. The Queen would never willingly choose to marry him.

*** * * * * * ***

Arriving at Casterly Rock was good. Tywin wasn't one to miss his home, but he knew that it was the place where he was the strongest. He didn't waste time to rest. Tywin met Kevan immediately after his arrival and they proceeded to the docks. Since his brother knew when Tywin's party was going to arrive, everything was ready for them to set sail. Kevan stayed in Lannisport to protect it should there be need for it.

As soon as they neared the Iron Islands Tywin knew that something was wrong. It was like an undefined itch somewhere inside his brain, but it wasn't exactly precise. It was only when he got some messages from Lord of Riverrun that he realised it. Greyjoy ships and soldiers weren't there to protect their land. They were pillaging neither the Westerlands nor the Riverlands. So where in Seven Hells were they?

The answer to that question came when Tywin's fleet encountered a three ill-manned ships of the Greyjoy fleet near the Pyke. The battle, if it could even be called that, was a short one. Tywin's forces outnumbered their enemies twenty to one. Tywin's men boarded the ships and slaughtered almost everyone, leaving only the captain of the largest ship alive. Tywin made his way to the enemy's ship and had the prisoner brought to him.

“Where is the rest of Greyjoy fleet?” He asked, not having time for small talk. The man remained silent even under Tywin's cold glare. “Very well.” Tywin would get his answers one way or another. “Take him below and secure him.” He ordered his men.

When his men emerged having completed the task, Tywin went down himself. The captive was bound tightly to a chair he was sitting on. The chair itself was tied to a pillar to prevent the possibility of the prisoner falling to his side and breaking the chair thus freeing himself. Tywin took his time before speaking, knowing that every second of being stared at and tied up deepened the man's discomfort. The man's upper body had been stripped of clothes.

“Ultimately you will answer my questions. It's entirely up to you how much you'll suffer through the process.” Tywin had no wish to prolong this.

“If I answer your questions, I'm a dead man. Do you think me stupid?” The man answered defiantly.

“And if you don't, I can guarantee that you'll wish for death.”

Tywin took out his knife he used every so often for skinning animals. This wasn't any different from skinning a deer after a hunt. The man in front of him was a krakens' pet and Tywin wouldn't be bothered by having a pet's blood on his hands no more than he would be by any other animal's blood. No, Tywin wasn't a Bolton. He didn't flay people for sport or pleasure. But when the situation required it, he was practical enough to do it. Tywin needed this man's answers and he needed them quickly. There was a very bad suspicion growing at the back of his head and if it was true, he needed to act immediately.

“You won't torture me, yourself. You won't want to get your lordly hands dirty.” Said the man defiantly, but his voice faltered when his eyes met Tywin's.

“I could order someone else to do it.” Tywin said conversationally. “Any single one of my men would do it without a second thought.” But he didn't have time to wait on the results of others' work. “But I prefer to take a more direct approach. Remember, that you can end this at any moment you choose.” Tywin reminded and he did mean it. Once he got the information he wouldn't torture the man anymore. He'd grant him a swift death.

Without much warning Tywin drove the knife into the man's skin. The cut was shallow, but very precise, going in a straight vertical line across the man's chest. The man tensed, but he didn't scream.

“You're out of your depth.” The man spat. “That tickled.”

Tywin, however, wasn't discouraged by the apparent lack of effect. He walked towards the door and gave a few commands to the guard there, careful not to speak too loudly so that the prisoner couldn't overhear.

“So you decided to get some help? I told you that you couldn't do it.” The prisoner mocked.

Tywin didn't waste his energy to respond to the captive's taunts. He simply made another two cuts on the man's skin diagonally over the man's pectorals and up to his shoulders. Before a soldier came in, carrying the bucket of water Tywin had requested, he added two more diagonal cuts from the man's navel to his hips.

“Are you worried that the blood won't come off of your delicate lordly hands?” The prisoner taunted seeing the bucket of water.

Without setting the knife aside Tywin immersed his one hand in the bucket only to take it out a few seconds later and squeeze the water from a piece of cloth over the man's wounds. At first the man only hissed in pain, but Tywin wasn't deterred. He carried on, cutting the man's skin in a way he would if he were skinning an animal, revealing more and more flesh. Tywin interspersed the cutting with the pouring of the salt water in such a way that the man could never know when one would end and the other commence again. After a short while the man was screaming in pain and begging for mercy.

“I've already told you what I want to know. Tell me that and I'll stop.”

“The fleet is sailing for King's Landing!” The man yelled. “They want to make the weak Queen pay and then save our Prince. They'll burn the capital to the ground and the Iron Islands will be independent once more.” The man suddenly laughed madly. “And there's nothing anyone can do since she sent all of her armies away.”

Hearing the words Tywin felt his ire rising. It had been a trap all along. Tywin had let himself be led right into it because of the concern for his homeland and because of his will to revenge himself on those who had managed to lay waste to his city during their last rebellion. Tywin slit the man's throat and went to give the orders to go back to Lannisport.

Tywin sent a raven with a warning to King's Landing and another one to Kevan. The secrets revealed by the prisoner were confirmed a day later by raven from Tywin's for once not completely useless son-in-law.

_“I, Robert Baratheon send this warning to all Great Houses. I had been sailing with the Royal navy to stop House Greyjoy that rebelled against Sansa of House Stark the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Twelve days into our journey, when we were near Salt Shore, we had been attacked by a great force of Greyjoy ships. However, their purpose wasn't to fight us. They set an ambush in the night, incapacitated many ships and then sailed away. We are left with one fifth of our numbers and our ships are overcrowded, but we will pursue them. I fear that their goal is clear and I pray to the Seven that they fail to fulfil it.”_

*** * * * * * ***

Kevan Lannister was inspecting the defences of Lannisport, making sure everyone was ready in case there was an attack from the sea when a servant of Maester Creylen found him with a message from Tywin.

_“Kevan, order the cavalry to be prepared to move out within the hour of your receiving this message. Direction: King's Landing. Tell them to hurry as much as possible. Krakens are sailing there. I'll be arriving tomorrow in the night with the rest of the riders and we too will depart immediately. Have the horses ready.” ___

__It was two days after Tywin had set sail from Lannisport. Kevan didn't waste precious moments for vain wondering. Time was of the essence so he quickly summoned the people he needed and conveyed his brother's instructions. Then he personally oversaw the preparations to make sure everything was done quickly. Kevan met with the commanders of Lannister soldiers explaining what he had learned from his brother's message. Kevan could see that they wanted to ask questions, but no one dared. Forty minutes after Kevan had received the message the cavalry was on it's way._ _

____

*** * * * * * ***

Tywin was in a great hurry arriving back at Casterly Rock. Most of the men who'd sailed with him wouldn't be coming with him to the capital, so he let them rest. They'd done a good job bringing them to Lannisport in a shortest time than Tywin had estimated. Those few of his personal guards who would come with him have already been given orders and knew to be ready to leave soon.

Tywin himself would ready himself too, but first he needed to talk to his brother. Kevan hadn't greeted Tywin at the docks, but Tywin knew why. They understood each other very well, so Tywin knew exactly that Kevan would be waiting in Tywin's solar. Sure enough when Tywin opened the door it was his brother whom he saw.

“Ty.”

“Kev.”

That was the way they always greeted each other in private. Short and efficient. No need for many words, pleasantries and such nonsense.

“I've done exactly like you asked, Ty. But tell me one thing: why? Why do you care so much? It can't be because she made you her Hand.” Kevan asked.

If it was anyone else... But it couldn't be. No one else would dare ask this of him. No one else would hear what Tywin said to his brother.

“I haven't seen a person her age to act as maturely as she does in years. In fact, I've only ever known one such a person. That's why I know she can achieve greatness. And I intend to have my share in it.” He admitted to his brother and his brother only. “Oh and Kev?” He added as an afterthought. “The Iron Islands are almost deserted now. Take our fleet and take them, but don't kill everyone. They're the Queen's vassals not mine. She should decide. Oh and don't leave Lannisport unguarded.”


	22. It Will Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny leaves. Sansa contemplates her marriage. Someone rudely interrupts her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I know I haven't been very active lately. This was supposed to be just a part of chapter 22, but chapter 22 grew to be huge, so I decided to cut it into shorter parts, since I've been posting short chapters from the beginning and have no intention of breaking that tradition too much. But the pay-off is that you'll get a few chapters in quite a quick succession since they're already written in most parts and need only be edited and embellished. So I hope you'll enjoy. Or not. It does get weird at the end. But I'll be satisfied if you feel anything at all.
> 
> The title is the title of a song by Hozier, because it kind of fits. Both parts.

The ship prepared for Danny was regal indeed. The maids have packed her clothes and other necessities which were at the moment being transported to the ship. The whole court was on the shore to witness Queen Sansa saying goodbye to Princess Daenerys, but Sansa felt as if a part of her heart was torn from her to travel with her sister. However, this was no place for showing emotions. They have said goodbye in private and Sansa had one more important matter to settle before Danny went away.

“Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen, on this day of your departure and with great hope of your quick and safe journey both ways, it is our wish to grant the castle and island of Dragonstone to be your own home if you should wish to settle there and, among other things, your dowry, should you wish to marry.” Sansa presented a royal decree in two copies and handed one to Danny.

Daenerys was astonished and so was the court, apart from Sansa's council, since she'd made her will known to them. She had planned it since she became Queen, but wanted to wait till Danny came of age or decided to get married. However, when Danny told her about leaving, Sansa had felt that it was the right moment. It was a powerful statement to all, but most importantly, it meant that Danny, though not in line to the Throne anymore, would still be seen as an eligible match and an important person at court. It was also a gesture of friendship.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Danny replied officially.

Sansa got closer to her friend and said in a tone that only the people closest to them could hear. “It should belong to you. You'll have a place in the Red Keep as long as I shall live, but I wanted you to also have a place of your own.”

“Thank you, San. You don't know how much it means to me.” Danny whispered back.

It was time then. Daenerys got on a boat that would transport her to the ship and the High Septon said a prayer to the Seven for her safe travels.

*** * * * * * ***

Whenever she felt overwhelmed by duties or needed some time for herself, however scarce it was, Sansa would go to the godswood. She prayed some, but mostly came there to think. With Danny's departure, the war and the upcoming coronation which in turn marked the date when she had to announce whom she would marry, she had a lot to think about.

Seeing Danny leave made Sansa sad and worried. Was Danny's brother really telling the truth or did he have some other plan? Sansa could ignore neither possibility. If he was indeed telling the truth, it could be of great advantage to her reign. It could put an end to people calling her family usurpers, which still happened, though rarely. However, if the other was true, then Danny would be in danger and so would the Seven Kingdoms when Viserys decided to invade. Danny's safety was Sansa's most urgent concern. True, Ser Jorah was with her, but he was only one man One of the best knights in the Seven Kingdoms, but still only one man. And Danny herself was sill but a girl. An amazingly strong and brave girl, yet a girl nonetheless.

The war was a cause of worry for Sansa too. She knew that it couldn't have been avoided, but she still wished it was otherwise. She knew she chose the right punishment when it came to Theon and truth be told, she didn't think choosing differently would have made a difference. There would still be war. Had she chosen to set him free or let him go unpunished and to keep him at court, the Greyjoy's would still have rebelled, thinking her to be weak. Had she killed Theon, the effect would have been the same, though the motive in that case would have been revenge. Sansa was already aware that being Queen meant that people would die because of her. Some in battles and others as punishment for crimes, but invariably on her orders. Another concern was to determine what she was to do with the rebels after the war. She had no doubt that the allied armies of the North, the West, the Riverlands and the Crownlands would defeat the enemy, even at sea which was the Greyjoys' domain, but what should she do afterwards?

Although Sansa was already used to public appearances, the coronation would be a stressful event for her. The thought of it brought back the sorrow of loosing her elder brother who should be crowned after their father. Sansa had never imagined it to be so. She was always sure that their father would rule a long time and that he would be succeeded by Robb, who in turn would be succeeded by his own child. She was also worried about lords and ladies swearing their loyalty to her. What if someone refused to do so? She had the support of most Houses, but not all. She didn't want another war.

Thinking of her coronation also brought with it her promise to announce whom she would marry. Sansa had always thought it would be her father who would arrange her marriage. She knew marrying was her duty as a princess, but she also trusted her parents to choose someone right for her. Never had she imagined she would have to be the one to choose. For a moment she wished she was in love. If she were, the choosing part wouldn't be a problem. Of course, it would make everything else complicated. From what she knew about love it didn't care about propriety or welfare of the realm. Not being in love was actually good, because she could choose the best person for the job. Yes, she did wish she could have love and she didn't know what she was throwing away, but she still knew she had to. Maybe she could still have love in her marriage. Her parents were the best example, not having ever met before their wedding day.

Her councillors have suggested quite a few candidates. Arya's proposal came right to Sansa's mind, but she dismissed it for the time being to consider others. Lord Stannis' proposal, though not exactly naming a specific person was a sound one. Marrying someone from the North would help Sansa keep the Crown tied and associated with the Starks' original homeland and it would most probably assure her of her husband's loyalty. And yet, the North was already her strongest ally. Although she needed to maintain that bond, she needed new alliances more. Besides she would not let herself doubt aunt Lyanna or cousin Jon. Lord Tyrion's proposal was a good one too. And witty at the source of it. Her marrying the future head of House Tyrell would strengthen her alliance with the Reach, but it wouldn't cause a great shift in the power struggle between the Houses since Marg was already Sansa's ward and friend, and Ser Loras was her Queensguard. As for Lord Willas himself, he was quite nice and charming on the occasions that they have met and undeniably educated, but Sansa knew he didn't posses the strength she sought in her husband. She needed someone who could help her do the things she was yet unable to. To lead her army in her place, to help her rule if need be and, though she'd rather not admit it, to keep her naïvety and childishness in check. Sansa dismissed Lord Renly's proposal. Marrying one of Prince Doran's sons wouldn't give her the strength she sought. She had briefly considered his brother, but was also sure Prince Oberyn would refuse. Baelish's idea was straight out crazy or maybe even a joke. Sansa didn't even consider it, though it made her wonder about Lord Petyr's reasons. He had to realise he was making a fool of himself, so why would he? She knew him to be cunning and his behaviour seemed out of character. Why Lord Varys would propose Prince Viserys was also beyond Sansa, but maybe he really thought it could prevent Prince Viserys from invading, if Danny's brother was indeed planning to do so.

The choice of Lord Tywin seemed obvious to both Arya and the Grand Maester, but Sansa still had doubts. It wasn't his age stopping her even though it was intimidating and the difference in experience levels would be a major issue if they did marry. It wasn't the rumours that his ability to love died with his late wife. She was resolved that her happiness was inferior to her duty towards the realm. It wasn't his reputation and what he did to the Reynes and Tarbecks. No, it was his strength of character that gave her doubts. True, strength was what she needed in her prospective husband, but what if he proved too strong for her. What if she became a puppet in his hands? Making him her Hand was one thing, but marrying him was another thing altogether. As long as she was unmarried, she had her aunt as Regent, but that would end when she was considered a grown woman and if she got married she would be. She could marry someone strong enough to keep her Hand in check in case he tried to usurp her power, but if she married him there would be no one to balance the scales. Both Arya and Maester Samwell were right in a way, Lord Lannister was a good choice. But what if he was too good a choice? What if he became King and she became just a doll-Queen? Sansa had so many ideas she wanted to bring to life, to make the Seven Kingdoms a better place. But what if Lord Tywin didn't see things the way she did?

Would he even agree to be her husband? No one on the Small Council took into consideration that someone could not want to marry her. Well, to be honest she was the most desirable party in the Seven Kingdoms, but marrying her would still have consequences. Hers couldn't be a regular union.

Did she really want to marry Lord Tywin? He was imposing and cold, but at times he could also be... maybe not charming, that wasn't a word to describe him, but courteous. And she couldn't forget the way he danced with her. No, Sansa wasn't in love with him, but she appreciated his good manners.

So it was settled. She would have to ask him. And soon. If he agreed they could be betrothed and they would marry as soon as she flowered. Being now resolved on the matter helped her ease her worries. She sat down under the godswood's heart tree and hugged Lady closely, relishing in the soft touch of her pet's fur.

“I'm sorry to interrupt your moment of solitude, Your Grace.” Said a voice behind her.

Sansa stood up, but she didn't need to see who it was to know that the voice belonged to Lord Baelish. When she did turn around she saw him coming towards her with his usual slightly creepy smile. He stopped a little too close for it to be appropriate, choosing the side where Lady wasn't standing by Sansa. Moving back would be a sign that she was uncomfortable or afraid, so Sansa stood her ground bravely. Even though they were out of earshot of anyone, Sansa didn't want to invite Baelish's informality, since he was prone to be too direct without any invitation, so she chose to address him formally.

“You did interrupt me, Lord Baelish.” Sansa said stiffly. “What was so important that you'd risk my displeasure at such an interruption?”

“I came to apologise, Your Grace.” Said Baelish. “My advice at the Council meeting was quite useless to you and I'm sorry. I want to be able to help you, Your Grace. I want to be your friend, just like I've always been your mother's. I shouldn't have said what I have, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I couldn't think clearly because I love you, Your Grace. I love you, Sansa.”

Sansa was left speechless by the man's admission. Did he have any idea of the impropriety of his words? Did he not realise how dangerous they were? She could only hope he wouldn't go one step further.

“Over the past few weeks you have changed from a delicate girl into a strong and awe-inspiring woman. Please, will you consider marrying me, so that I can always support you on the difficult path laid before you?”

Sansa had to cut this madness short, before it got completely out of control. “You're forgetting your place, Lord Baelish. I will be the one to choose my future husband and when I do, I will be the one to propose, not the other way round.”

“I know, Your Grace. I was only hoping that I could convince you to choose me.” Baelish blurted out.

“You have said quite enough, Lord Baelish. You may take your leave.” Sansa said calmly but sternly.

“I didn't mean to offend, Your Grace.” Said Baelish and he seemed intent on talking on and on.

“Now, Lord Baelish.” Sansa said. She didn't raise her voice. She said it quietly, but in a tone as cold as winter winds in the North.

Lady reacted to Sansa's tone by baring her teeth and growling lightly. Baelish jumped back as if he had stepped onto hot coals and left without saying another word or bowing.

Sansa was left once again to her own thoughts. Was this what love made of people? Fools who forgot about propriety, manners and politeness? Regardless if Baelish really loved her or not, surely he had to realise that she couldn't consider marrying him. For the good of the Realm she had to marry Lord Lannister. She shouldn't marry Lord Baelish even if she wanted to, but more importantly Sansa didn't want to.

Even before her dream, Sansa had been wary of Baelish, but after she dreamt of making him her Hand, she was especially careful around him. Sansa didn't know why her mother considered him a friend, but he was definitely not one to Sansa. Was he lying when he told her that he loved her? Was he pretending to act like a fool, so that she'd believe him? It was possible, but there could also be another explanation. Baelish had been in love with Sansa's mother when they were young. Maybe he had never stopped loving her and when she died he transferred his feelings to Sansa who, according to those who knew Lady Catelyn in her youth, looked exactly alike.

Every time Sansa talked to Lord Baelish, she learnt something new, but that didn't make her trust him. Sansa remembered a game he taught her and she applied it to him. What was the worst reason Lord Baelish could have to admit that he loved her? He wanted her throne. He wanted her to marry him, so that he would be able to rule through her. How well did that motive explain his actions? Quite well, actually.

Yet, Sansa refused to judge him only because of her suspicion. It was possible that he truly was a fool in love. She would have to watch him closely, but for now she needed him as her Master of Coin. He really was gifted when it came to money.


	23. You Don't Have to Be Old to Be Wise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More new people come to KL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's extra short, but it made sense to cut it there.

The court session wasn't as difficult as some other times for there was a pleasant surprise at the end of it. Lord Stannis walked towards Sansa accompanied by a small figure.

“Your Grace, as we agreed, this is my daughter come to be fostered at your court.” Said Lord Stannis.

“Thank you, my Lord.” She said to him and then turned to the girl by his side. “Welcome to court, my Lady. I'm really glad to see you here.”

The girl was Arya's age. She had her father's square, jutting jaw and blue eyes which were too large for her small face. The remnants of the greyscale she had suffered from covered a half of her left cheek and most of her neck. She wore her black hair in a typically southern style. Sansa couldn't honestly think that she was pretty, but there was something undeniably sweet about her.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I'm grateful for your invitation.”

Sansa could see that people were gossiping already. She could imagine what they were saying and she suspected that little of it was kind. Sansa knew that she had to react swiftly. If she didn't nip this behaviour in the bud, it would soon be unstoppable. Sansa knew that the whole situation could backfire, but she couldn't let this behaviour continue. Aside from the fact that it would be hurtful to her good name and reputation if her courtiers tormented her ward, she simply could not abide them hurting this sweet and innocent girl.

Sansa stood up and walked down the stairs from the throne to the floor level. Her Queensguard moved swiftly out of her way and if they were surprised by her behaviour, they didn't let it show. Sansa walked towards the girl and delicately kissed her first on her healthy cheek and then on the one marked by the disease. The skin there was stony to the touch, but it wasn't unpleasant.

The whole throne room was stunned silent. Sansa noticed that there was a faint smile on Lord Stannis' face and when their eyes met for a moment, he inched his head slightly to thank her. Sansa straightened her back, smiled at the surprised girl and offered her arm.

“Walk with me, Lady Shireen.”

The girl was at first hesitant, but then she accepted Sansa's arm and they walked hand in hand through the silent room accompanied by the Queensguard. The atmosphere was tense, but Sansa pretended not to notice. They left the courtroom together and Sansa could feel the girls muscles relax slightly when they were no longer in a crowd.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The girl said in a tiny voice.

“I'm glad I could help. They looked ready to eat you alive.” Sansa said. “And you can call me Sansa when we're alone or among family.”

“I'm Shireen.” The girl said.

“Nice to meet you, Shireen. I won't lie to you. The capital is a dangerous place. I should know, I've lost a half of my family here. But I want you to feel at home here. If anyone bothers you I need you to tell me, alright? You're my guest here. An offence to you is an offence to me.”

“My mother sometimes said that I deserved the things that people said about me because I was cursed.” Shireen admitted. “Aren't you worried that people will say you're cursed too if you take me as your ward? Especially...”

“Especially after what I did in the throne room?” Sansa finished the question she knew Shireen wanted to ask. “Do you know why I've asked your father to let you come to court and be my ward?” Sansa asked and when Shireen shook her head Sansa explained. “I've asked your father if he could take your cousin - Joffrey as his ward. Joffrey's behaviour has gotten out of hand and sadly neither one of his parents is capable of doing anything about it. I believe your father may yet have a chance of getting through to him. However, knowing how cruel Joffrey can be, I didn't want him to have a chance to torment you. I don't care if people say that I'm cursed for taking your side. I will always stand between the innocent and those who seek to harm them.” Sansa said firmly. “And if anything should happen because of this, I want you to know that I'd never blame you for it.”

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa was perplexed when she learned that there was someone requesting a private audience with her on a very short notice, but she was curious and in a good mood after welcoming Lady Shireen, so she allowed it. The guests were announced as Jojen and Meera Reed. Sansa had of course learnt about the Houses of the North so the name was familiar and she knew that Lord Howland was a friend of her father's even though their circumstances rarely allowed them to see one another, but the given names were unfamiliar to her.

The two people who came in were young. There was no doubt that they were related since they shared the exact same hair colour and were both similarly built. They were short and slim. The boy looked around Sansa's age, but his countenance made him look very serious and the girl looked a few years older. They were dressed in green, but the colour was dull compared to the boy's eyes. Sansa had never seen anything so green in her life.

“Thank you for granting us this moment of your time, Your Grace.” Spoke the boy. “I'm Jojen of House Reed and this is my sister Meera.”

“I'm pleased to meet you, my Lord, my Lady. My father always spoke highly of your father. What can I do for you?” Sansa addressed them both though it was clear that the boy spoke for the both of them.

“Actually, we came here to help you, Your Grace, or more precisely, to help your brother.” The boy stated without small talk.

“I'm grateful for your consideration, but what makes you think that my brother needs help?” Sansa replied politely and calmly, but her mind was racing. He had to mean Bran. But how could he know? Unless...

“Do you trust your guards, Your Grace?” The boy asked chancing a glance towards her protectors.

“Implicitly, my Lord. They are my Queensguard. Sworn to protect me and my family. They would never betray me.” Sansa spoke the words and was proud that she also believed them.

“I'm sure King Aerys thought the same, but if you're certain...” Jojen said. Sansa had to admit that he had a lot of nerve. “I know your brother has the gift, Your Grace. I can help him control it. Teach him how to use it.”

Sansa wanted to ask how he came by that knowledge, but it seemed somehow redundant. He had to have seen it. Sansa had only talked about Bran's gift with aunt Lyanna, Arya and the Grand Maester. None of them would have revealed this information. “You have the same gift too.”

“Similar, but not the same, Your Grace. My gift is a mere shadow compared to your brother's, but I can teach him the basics.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I've been worried about him.” Sansa was glad that this young man came offering help. She had really been worried about Bran. But she couldn't help wondering what the price was. She knew she would learn it sooner or later, yet she wouldn't insult her guests by asking them directly about it. Sansa could only hope that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

“I won't insult your intelligence by telling you that there's nothing to worry about, Your Grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that cheek-kissing was invented much later, but it seemed fitting for the scene. I wanted to drive the message home and I hope that I've succeeded.


	24. Another War Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news of the war coming their way finally reach the capital.

Sansa was writing letters when Bran ran into her chambers as if he was chased by the Others themselves. He was shouting from the moment the door closed behind him.

“Sansa! Sansa! I saw them! I saw them coming. It happened again.”

Sansa rose from behind her desk and walked towards her brother who had suddenly stopped in the middle of the room. She could see that something had frightened him, so she hugged him and guided them to sit near the fireplace.

“Is it your sight again?” Sansa asked gently. Bran nodded. “What have you seen? Did you tell Jojen?”

“There's no time. I've seen ships. Hundreds of them. I don't know where they were, but I could feel that they were coming here. They were scary and ready for battle.” Bran explained.

“Were they the royal fleet and Robert's ships? Did you see the crowned wolf and the stag on the sails?” Sansa inquired though from the way Bran was evidently scared, she already suspected his answer.

“No. They had black sails with a kraken on them. They were the Iron fleet.” Bran hugged her tightly as if he was trying to hide.

“Shh... It's alright. Your warning can help us prepare better.” She said ruffling his auburn hair. “I must go now.”

“Will you tell them that I told you?” Bran asked.

Sansa considered his question. To this moment only aunt Lyanna, Arya, the Grand Maester and the Reed siblings knew about Bran's abilities. She didn't want to advertise them too widely. But what would she say if she was asked about the source of her knowledge? True, she was the Queen and didn't have to explain anything to anyone, but if she didn't then someone could suspect sorcery and dark arts. But she would rather bring gossip on herself than endanger her brother.

“No, Bran. I'll keep you safe.” She replied.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa was on her way to the Small Council chamber, where she had already summoned a meeting when one of Grand Maester's servants found her and gave her two letters. One was sealed with Lord Tywin's seal and the other with Robert's. Both were marked as extremely urgent. Both were warnings of the Iron fleet sailing towards King's Landing. Now she wouldn't have to worry that someone might suspect Bran, but she did have to worry about defending the capital.

Thoughts ran through Sansa's head in all directions as she walked towards the meeting. Her army was away. She did have guards in the Red Keep and there was the City Watch, but would they suffice? Bran said he'd seen hundreds of ships. Of course it could be a child's imagination, but the enemy would still be numerous. Lord Stannis was one of the best strategists the Seven Kingdoms have known and he had already withstood a siege against all odds, but would his experience be enough? What could be done to protect the city? What could she personally do? There wasn't much time, but there could still be things done. Would her family be safe here or should she send them away? Sansa knew Arya would never leave, but maybe Bran could? Sansa didn't want to send Rickon away since she knew how scarred he was since their mother died. What about Margaery, Shireen, Myrcella and Tommen? What about other courtiers? What about the people of King's Landing? Could she evacuate them all? Would there be time? Would people even abandon their homes? She knew that if the city fell they would all be slaughtered, but people would be afraid of thieves and the City Watch would be busy protecting the city from the outside threat. And if the city did fall and the Ironborn learnt about the refugees, wouldn't they hunt them down anyway? And sending them away would show people that she feared defeat, that she didn't believe in the possibility of winning. Anyway this wasn't going to be a long siege. Ser Barristan would be returning as soon as he got Robert's letter and even Robert was coming back with what was left of the fleet. Her allies were unfortunately too far away to help with the battle that was to come, but if the city held long enough they would come to the rescue. Now she only had to ensure that it did.

Entering the Small Council chamber Sansa saw that everyone was already there.

“Your Grace, to what do we owe the pleasure of this unscheduled meeting?” Asked Lord Tyrion.

“We need to defend the city.” There was no time for pleasantries. “Even as we speak, the Iron fleet is sailing towards King's Landing. These are the messages I received from Lord Baratheon and Lord Lannister.”

She laid the letters on the table and gave them time to read.

“This was written three days ago.” Said Lord Tyrion pointing to Robert's letter. “So we have about nine days till they come.”

“We have to consider the possibility that it could be less than that.” Said Lord Stannis. “Not much less, but it's the Iron fleet. They have fast ships and they are the best sailors.”

“So in the worst possible situation, how much time do we have?” Asked aunt Lyanna.

“Seven days.” Stannis replied sternly.

“What do we do?” Sansa asked, knowing that their situation was a difficult one. She needed everyone to think about every possible solution they could come up with.

“We need more soldiers.” Ser Arthur stated. It was quite obvious, but important nonetheless.

“But how do we get them? The royal army is too far and so are our other allies.” Aunt Lyanna was actually worried. That was not good at all.

“Not all of them. Our brother took a good part of the Baratheon army along with the royal fleet and his own, but not all of them. There aren't very many of them, but in our situation every person counts.” Lord Renly reminded.

“But won't that leave your land undefended?” Asked the Grand Maester, concern sounding in his voice.

“Not entirely undefended, but weakened, yes. However, the Greyjoys won't attack there. They waited for you to send your armies to defeat them, but they know that your army and your allies will be coming back. They have this one opportunity and it all depends on how swiftly they strike. They won't linger.” Lord Stannis sounded quite sure of his judgement and Sansa had no reason to doubt his words.

“You can also ask the Reach for help.” Added Lord Renly. “Their army isn't mobilised, but the Houses that have castles close to the capital could send us reinforcements. You can send word to Houses Footly and Meadows.”

“We can also hire sellswords. Moreover, we have to have scorpions, spitfires, and catapults constructed.” Said Ser Arthur, practical as ever and everyone agreed with his words.

“We could also... no, that's too dangerous.” Said aunt Lyanna, hesitating whether she should share her idea.

“What did you have in mind, Lady Regent?” Sansa pressed the matter. Every idea even the most dangerous could be useful. If it proved to be too dangerous, it could always be modified.

“Rhaegar always said that his father had great stashes of wildfire. I'm sure they still exist and more could be produced. We could have the catapults throw jars of wildfire at their ships and army.” Aunt Lyanna explained.

“That indeed seems very dangerous. If they realised what we were doing, they could target our catapults and we'd help them set fire to our own city.” Sansa understood immediately.

“But we could do something else with the wildfire instead.” Said Lord Tyrion.

“What do you propose, Lord Tyrion?” Sansa asked.

“We don't have many ships left, right?” Lord Tyrion answered her question with one of his own.

“Only a few.” Sansa replied.

“We could have wildfire placed in the few ships that we have left. Then we could send them against the Iron fleet and set them on fire.” Lord Tyrion explained his idea.

“Wouldn't they try to run away when they saw the first ships burning and wouldn't they simply come back when the fire went down?” Lord Renly asked what was on everyone's minds.

“That's where the second part of my idea would come in.” Lord Tyrion continued. “We could commission a a great chain boom across the mouth of the Blackwater Rush and when their ships sail in, the chain would be raised, trapping them inside to burn.”

“This is madness. Utter and complete madness.” Said Lord Varys and Sansa couldn't help but think the same.

“Yet it would give us the element of surprise.” Sansa pointed out. “They wouldn't be expecting it. But there's one important condition.” She insisted. “No one can be on the ships we fill with wildfire. You must find a way to make them go where we want them without hurting our people.”

“Alright, I'll find a way to keep the ships unmanned.” Lord Tyrion promised.

“I know it's a difficult topic, but we have to consider that the city could fall.” Said Lord Varys. “Perhaps you would consider sending your siblings away, so that if the city falls, there'll be a Stark to rally the people to their side and sit on the Iron Throne.” Lord Varys smiled apologetically. “I'm sorry. I don't wish you any harm, Your Grace.”

“No, don't apologise. You're right, Lord Varys. I've already thought about it myself. Princess Arya will surely refuse to go and I have no wish to force her, but Prince Bran will do as I ask. He's old enough to understand. However, no one can know that he's leaving. This information must not leave this room. For the sake of both his safety and preventing panic in the city.”

“You can be assured of our secrecy, Your Grace.” Lord Varys said and the others agreed.

“Who will you name the leader of the city's defence. Your Grace?” Asked the Grand Maester.

Sansa turned towards Stannis. “This task falls on your shoulders, Lord Stannis.” If it was an official occasion she would say honour, but there was no need for big words now. It was a task, a burden. But she could think of none better to carry it out. “From now on, everyone is to follow your command when it comes to planning the defences of the city and leading us into battle.”

“Will you listen to me, Your Grace?” Lord Stannis asked. “Will you heed my words when I ask you to invite the noble women and children to Maegor's Holdfast and be their host, remaining in its safety for the duration of the battle?”

Sansa had expected this argument to come up again and she was prepared to defend her resolution. “How could I do that? How can I hide and ask anyone to go out to battle? Yes, I've already asked that when the royal army was leaving, but that was different. They were leaving to wage war to our enemies in their home. But this is my home. How can I ask people to fight for me if I'm not even ready to defend my home? My city? The threat we're facing is great. It's the whole Iron fleet. And the Ironborn won't be easily defeated. You can't convince me this time. I need to be there. Besides, if we loose, then my being in Maegor's Holdfast won't change anything. The Ironborn do not negotiate when they're winning. However, my being out on the walls might help boost the morale of our soldiers.”

“And if they see you fall?” Asked Lord Baelish. He had been silent to this point, but now he voiced his concern for her. “Will that help their morale? Because if you go out there, our enemies will make sure to target you first with the hope of breaking your soldiers' spirits.”

“Though my death isn't something I'm wishing for, it would actually make our soldiers even fiercer.” Sansa argued. “If I were a great warrior, then my fall could bring fear and terror to the hearts of our men, but as I'm female and not yet a grown woman at that, it's a different matter entirely. If I were to fall, it would inspire rage and a will to avenge the young Queen who was brave enough to stand and fight.”

“Is it a game to you? Trying to gain popularity by putting yourself at risk?” Asked Lord Stannis. His words were harsh, but Sansa knew he only said it because he was concerned.

“I despise your implication, my Lord.” Sansa replied. She could not allow him to treat her like that even though she'd entrusted the defence to him. “I'm merely presenting the facts as they'll be perceived. As for my reasons, they should be quite obvious. I've already told you that in case of defeat my whereabouts will be of little consequence, but I believe that my presence on the walls can make a difference. Moreover, it will give me a chance to learn and experience first-hand what I know only from books and lessons. There I will listen to your command, but you must not send me away.”


	25. Silk to Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets an armour. The capital prepares for the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to [NoisyBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyBird/pseuds/NoisyBird) for helping me come up with the title to this chapter.

News of the oncoming battle flew through the city faster than it should be possible. Some people were preparing to leave and Sansa was actually glad, though there weren't very many of them. Sansa had written the letters she needed and left the preparations in Lord Stannis' hands. The city was already being prepared. At the mouth of Blackwater Rush two towers were being constructed which would house the mechanism that raised the chain that was supposed to trap the enemy ships. Many blacksmiths were employed to help make the enormous chain. Scorpions, spitfires, and catapults were also being constructed. Sansa tasked Ser Arthur with choosing the men who would escort Bran in secret to Rosby and even further should King's Landing fall. Sansa herself went to the Street of Steel to commission a suit of armour for herself. She had thought she would have to do this in secret and her mind imagined countless ways in which she could sneak out of the Red Keep. It would have been dangerous and stupid, but it would be more of an adventure than going there in a litter, escorted by Ser Brynden and Ser Loras.

The Master Armourer – Tobho Mott had the greatest house on the Street of Steel. It was quite splendid, but Sansa had no time to linger admiring architecture. When she went in she was greeted by the Master Armourer himself who bowed to her deeply.

“Your Grace, what an honour to see you here. How may I be of service?” He asked, all smiles and pleasantries.

“I wish to commission a suit of armour, but I would need it done very soon.” Sansa replied.

“For the battle soon to be? That won't be a problem.” The man assured her. “I've no shortage of apprentices who will help me accommodate your demands. Who is the armour meant to be for? My apprentice will need to take measurements and if you need it so soon I would ask that you tell this person to meet me today.”

“You misunderstand, Master Mott. That is why I have come in person. The armour is meant for me.” Sansa explained. She tried to hide the irritation at his assumption that the armour wasn't for her.

“Your Grace, if you desire a dress that will have elements of armour...” The man said, but Sansa had had enough.

“Master Mott, if I desired a dress, I wouldn't have come to waste your time and I ask that in return you don't waste mine.” She said calmly, but her voice that brook no opposition. “I need a suit of armour for I don't intend to hide in Maegor's Holdfast during the battle. I intend to be out there on the battlements and my councillors insisted that I needed protection.”

Sansa could see a struggle on his face. He wanted to question her decision and motives, but he also knew better than to question his Queen. However, he was a true professional and recovered quickly.  
He rang a bell and after a few seconds a boy appeared from the back room. He stared for a brief moment on seeing her, but quickly remembered to lower his eyes and bowed to her.

“This is my apprentice Gendry, Your Grace. He will take your measurements.” Said Master Mott to Sansa, then told his apprentice what she had requested. “Please, follow him, Your Grace.”

The boy – Gendry led the way to an adjacent room. It was a spacious place and richly furnished, no doubt prepared for the many noble and rich customers the Master Armourer dealt with. Sansa had dressed in breeches and a shirt beneath her dress, having anticipated that her measurements would have to be taken. Gendry was quite shocked when she began removing her dress, but he understood when she revealed what she had under. Sansa saw Ser Loras smile slightly at the boy's uneasiness, but she doubted the boy himself noticed anything. All of her Queensguards were already used to her morning activities with Arya and had seen her dressed in comfortable clothes then, but for someone unaccustomed, it had to be a strange sight indeed.

Gendry took up the measuring tools and began his work without speaking much or looking at her. The only time he opened his mouth was when he asked her to raise her arms. For some time Sansa simply observed him as he worked. He was about Robb's age, was quite tall and his muscles showed that he worked hard for Master Mott. He had black hair and blue eyes. But it was his face that left the biggest impression in Sansa's mind. From the moment he walked into the room when Master Mott summoned him, Sansa couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere or that he reminded her greatly of someone she knew.

“Have you worked for Master Mott long, Gendry?” Sansa asked him, mostly to break the silence, but also to try to determine why his face looked so familiar.

The boy was at first startled that she should speak to him, but he answered with only slight hesitation in his voice. “Since I was very young, Your Grace. My mother died when I was little, Your Grace, but I was already strong, Your Grace. The day she died, Your Grace, a man came to me and told me that he would pay my apprenticeship fee if I chose a trade for myself, Your Grace. I had always admired the work of blacksmiths, Your Grace, so it was an obvious choice, Your Grace.”

“Enough with that 'Your Grace' all the time, alright? Once is quite enough, please.” Sansa asked because honestly it was becoming ridiculous. “Was that man your father?”

“It wouldn't be proper to address you any other way, Your Grace.” Gendry replied, but when Sansa looked at him sternly, he seemed to relent. “I don't think that he was my father. I don't remember much about my mother, but I know that she had fair hair. Whoever my father was, I have these after him.” He said gesturing at his hair. “And the man who paid my apprenticeship fee had a brown beard. He covered his face, but that wasn't my father.”

“Did you ever look for your father?” Sansa asked intrigued by the story.

“Why would I, Your Grace? I'm a bastard. If he wanted me in his household he could have made it happen. He had to know about me. Nothing else would make sense, but for him to have sent the man who paid the fee. So he knew, but chose not to know me. Maybe he has a loving wife and I was just a mistake? Maybe his wife would kill him if she found out? Or maybe he only wanted his conscience clear. Whatever his reasons, nothing I could have said would change it.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.” Sansa said seeing that the topic was a difficult one for the boy.

“It's no bother, Your Grace. I've managed to get used to this life. It's hard, but it's good. I don't regret it.” The boy actually managed to smile. “There. We're done.”

“Thank you, Gendry.” Sansa said and gave him a silver stag. For a moment Sansa thought that he would try to hand the coin back.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Gendry said, surprised at the generosity he wasn't expecting. “It was my honour. I hope you won't need the protection of that armour.”

Sansa felt a strange surge of astonishment and pride hearing him say those words. He didn't say that he hoped she would like the armour nor did he entertain some other similarly nonsensical notion. He actually said the right thing. As she left, she was once again left wondering where she had seen that face before.

*** * * * * * ***

The days before the battle seemed to blur into one. They were filled with endless council meetings, devising strategies, inspecting the progression of the preparation of defences and inspecting the troops. After a few days the men that Lord Stannis sent for, came to the city. So did the reinforcements from Houses Footly and Meadows. They still would be outnumbered, if their estimations of the size of the Greyjoy army were correct, but less so than before. Sansa was much more hopeful, having watched Lord Stannis for those few days. She had learnt much and was really glad that Lord Stannis was in the capital.

The days passed quickly. One moment Sansa was saying goodbye to Bran who was leaving for Rosby in the company of the Reed siblings and a few trusted guards chosen by Ser Arthur. It was only logical to have Lord Jojen accompany Bran if he was to teach him.

Another moment she spent quarrelling with Arya who insisted she was much needed during the battle and said she would not leave Sansa's side till the it was won. Sansa had known it would be impossible to have Arya leave with Bran, but she had hoped to convince her to stay in the Holdfast and be the last line of defence between their enemies and Rickon. Arya, however, wouldn't hear of it at all.

Sansa talked to Margaery asking her if she would accept the responsibility of inviting noble women and children to Maegor's Holdfast. Margaery was surprised to be asked and even shocked when Sansa told her that she intended to take part in the battle. But when Sansa explained her trail of thought Margaery understood and she happily agreed to take on the responsibility. She even managed to turn the whole situation into a joke, asking if that meant they were betrothed since it was customary for the ruler's wife to do this.

The rush and the preparation, didn't manage to diminish Sansa's worry for Danny. Maybe it was good that Danny would be away from the capital for the duration of the battle, but that didn't mean she was safe. Sansa wished she could hope that Ser Jorah would protect her, but truth be told she was worried for the knight too.

The scouts they sent along the coast reported that the enemy had almost two hundred ships, but fortunately they wouldn't come as soon as first anticipated, so they had a few more days for preparations.

Ser Arthur insisted on teaching Sansa sword fighting. They trained every day after the council meetings. Of course, that didn't mean that Arya gave up on training Sansa herself. While Ser Arthur taught Sansa to fight like a true knight, Arya taught her every single dirty trick she knew. The pay off was that in the evenings Sansa was very tired and often fell asleep at her desk in the solar. Luckily, aunt Lyanna didn't let her stay too long and if Sansa fell asleep, she would make sure that Sansa was moved to bed. As acting Hand, Lord Tyrion helped a lot too and thanks to their presence Sansa was still able to function more or less normally. Aunt Lyanna tried to convince Sansa that she didn't have to work through everything, but Sansa didn't want to stop in her effort to learn as much as she could about ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

When she finally received her new armour, Sansa was quite impressed by the quality of the work. The breastplate had a direwolf engraved with great attention to detail. The weight was much less pleasant a surprise. When her handmaiden helped her put everything on for the first time, Sansa felt as if she weighed two times as much as normally. Although it didn't surprise her when both Arya and Ser Arthur insisted she wore her armour to the practice, it still was a horror. The additional weight slowed her movements and both her opponents used that against her. Arya wore one of Robb's first armours, since she was small enough to fit into it.

Of course Ser Arthur had told Sansa that she had no chance of becoming a master of the sword in a week or ten days. He was, however, surprised when he saw that Sansa was no stranger to sword fighting and already knew the basics. He didn't question her, but she told him anyway that she had trained with Arya. It didn't feel right to accept the praise he offered without revealing who really deserved it. A few times Ser Arthur had her fight with her other Queensguards, so that he could watch from the side and better analyse her errors. He even insisted on accompanying her and Arya on one of their training sessions, but he left them to it after Arya taught Sansa a few particularly dirty moves that day. Sansa knew her sister well enough to understand it had been intentional. Arya didn't like his presence in her favourite training spot and she didn't bother hiding it, though Sansa was also aware that her sister revelled in the praise Ser Arthur had offered for her skills.


	26. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei visits Sansa. Arya kills a staw-man at least a hundred times.

The visit that surprised Sansa to an extent came one evening when she was already done with the activities and duties for the day. She was just finishing a letter in her solar when a servant came in announcing that Lady Cersei requested an audience. Sansa was a little surprised to hear it, though she had quite a good idea what it was about. After all Sansa herself had given the peremptory order that no one was allowed to see Joffrey without her explicit permission. Sansa wasn't sure she was ready for Lady Cersei's visit, but she was also aware that it would come sooner or later and she couldn't avoid the woman forever. So she told the servant to bring her in, but didn't put down her pen.

“Please, be seated, Lady Cersei.” Sansa said when the woman walked in, though she didn't raise her head from her letter. She continued writing while the other woman thanked her and took the offered seat. Despite her words, Lady Cersei's voice was definitely not thankful. Sansa took her time, choosing the right words to write, but all the time she was aware of eyes tracking her movements. When Sansa was finally satisfied with her letter she dusted it, sealed it and only then did she focus her attention on the woman in front of her. “You wanted to see me.” It wasn't as much a question as it was an invitation to speak.

“Yes, Your Grace. About my son. I would ask that you allow me to visit him.” Lady Cersei asked.

Sansa could see that the polite words seemed to almost hurt the woman sitting in front of her. She briefly wondered why Lady Cersei insisted on hating so much. Everyone but her children and her twin brother, seemed to be a target for Cersei's hatred.

“You know I cannot do that, my Lady.” Sansa replied, noticing a momentary grimace on Lady Cersei's face. “Your son's behaviour was unpardonable.”

“It was, Your Grace. But he's still a child. He can improve.” Cersei pleaded.

Sansa could see that Cersei didn't really believe her own words. Not when she admitted Joffrey's guilt, but neither when she said that he could improve.

“I have hope that he can, Lady Cersei.” Sansa said. She didn't have much hope, but for Robert's sake she needed to have at least some. “If I didn't, he would be in a cell right now and not being sent to be fostered at Storm's End after the battle.”

“If you were a mother, you could perhaps understand what I feel.” Cersei said, anger and resentment staining her words.

“I do understand. I don't need to be a mother to know that. I have lost three members of my family recently. Permanently.” Sansa stated. Cersei's presence was becoming annoying. “Joffrey is still alive and I understand it's important to you to keep him that way. But if he commits treason or even speaks about it... I won't be able to guarantee that. People are still looking for someone to blame for the murders. How easy would it be to pin it on a boy who called the Starks usurpers publicly?” Sansa asked.

It wasn't meant as a threat, but Cersei seemed to take it as such for she paled visibly and there was now worry in her eyes, though the anger and hatred were still there.

“You cannot think that it was Joffrey who...” Lady Cersei said, but Sansa raised her hand to quiet her.

“I do not.” Sansa admitted. “I'm interested in finding the real culprit. But the public doesn't care about it. They want someone to blame. They'll take the facts and interpret them the way they want.”

“What facts do you mean, Your Grace?” The title seemed to get stuck in Lady Cersei's throat, but she managed to say it.

“It was Ser Jaime who was guarding the King that night.” Sansa said at first. It was more to provoke a reaction from Lady Cersei than anything else. Sansa didn't doubt Ser Jaime.

“You cannot think it was Jaime!” Lady Cersei exclaimed.

“I trust Ser Jaime implicitly.” Sansa replied if only to stop the noise. “But how easily would people call him 'kingslayer' again? There's also the fact that Joffrey didn't say goodbye to my father when the King was on his deathbed. Myrcella and Tommen were there, but not Joffrey. If you add to that what he said during the feast, you get a pretty good view of what people are calling the Lannister Conspiracy. Some people are even saying that you yourself were the mastermind behind it. Others prefer to ascribe the calling of the shots to your father or your younger brother.”

“But you don't believe this.” This time it wasn't a question. Sansa got a feeling that Lady Cersei was finally beginning to understand.

“If I believed it, we wouldn't be talking face to face.” Sansa confirmed. “As I said, I trust Ser Jaime implicitly. I also know that Joffrey's absence at my father's deathbed was due to his lack of caring and that he's whereabouts on the day of the murders are accounted for.” Sansa herself had considered Joffrey in the beginning, but when she had talked about it with Arya, her sister informed her that, unfortunately – according to Arya, Joffrey had an alibi. As it turned out that evening Arya ran into Joffrey harassing one of her friends – a butcher's boy called Mycah, until Arya and Nymeria scared Joffrey off. And Joffrey had not been anywhere near the Tower of the Hand that day. Besides after considering it longer Sansa realised that Joffrey had neither the skill nor the intelligence to pull something like that off without being caught. “When it comes to your father and your younger brother I value their counsel and none of them was in the capital when the murders took place.”

“Which leaves you with me. A Lannister you cannot account for and do not care enough about to defend because I haven't been kissing the ground you walk on since you became Queen. One who had loathed your father for taking the Iron Throne. And let's not forget that poison is a woman's weapon, as they say.” Cersei said teasingly.

“Like I said, I'm interested in finding the true murderer.” Sansa replied. She was growing tired of Lady Cersei's presence. “And I believe that you've come to discuss a different matter. I have forbidden Joffrey from seeing you and others who might be a bad influence on him. It is his punishment as well as a method of protecting him, mostly from himself. It also gives him a chance of reflecting on his actions. He has access to books and his tutors attend him. I don't think a little isolation will hurt him.”

“You are right, Your Grace.” Cersei admitted and this time the words sounded a bit more sincere. “But in the wake of the upcoming battle, I would still ask you to let me see him. He's to be taken from me for a few years at least and I don't know when I'll be able to see him again. You know the pain of loosing someone you love and though I know he's only going away I feel like I'm loosing him all the same. Please, Your Grace, for the love your father bore his father.”

“Fine.” Sansa agreed. She was getting tired of Cersei's nagging. And if she could gain something because of this, it would be even better. “I will allow you to see Joffrey. But it will be in public and you will be watched.” Sansa said and then she had an idea. “I will allow him to join you in Maegor's Holdfast during the battle. However, his being there will be conditional on his good behaviour.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Cersei said, a satisfied grin, telling Sansa that Lady Cersei had expected to accomplish her goal.

“There's one more thing.” Sansa said. She couldn't help wanting to spoil Lady Cersei's malicious glee just a little bit. “If we win the battle, there will be my coronation soon after. Should Joffrey behave well in the Holdfast, I would allow him to attend and if you could persuade him to pledge his loyalty to me alongside his father, I would allow him to come to the capital once a year for your nameday and I would allow him to return to court after he's reached his maturity. Not to mention that it would help disperse the rumours of his being the murderer.”

*** * * * * * ***

Arya had been training tirelessly with Sansa for the past nine days and she had to admit that her sister did get better. Ser Arthur's lessons didn't hurt either. Yet Arya knew that Sansa would still need protection. That she would need all the help she could get. Arya herself had never been in better form. Even Syrio had praised her! And Sansa had proposed that she stayed in the Holdfast! Ha! Arya pushed Needle through her straw-made opponent's head, exactly where a real man would have his right eye. She knew Needle wouldn't pierce armour, but Arya had perfected targetting the points where armour would be thinner or where two parts of it met.

Apart from teaching Sansa and training herself, Arya had spied on countless council meetings and knew all the strategies. Fine, she had to admit that she had dozed off a few times when she was tired from her training and the topic wasn't particularly interesting. Or when Littlefinger spoke about the finances. Arya knew that money was very important when it came to wars, but she just couldn't help it, his voice made her physically sick.

On the tenth day everyone seemed even more tense. If the scouts were to be believed, the enemy would come this evening. The soldiers were allowed to sleep longer and rest through the day. Final strategies were revised at the Small Council meeting, but nothing more was added. Even Syrio had told Arya to rest, but she couldn't just sit patiently and wait for the inevitable. So she spent the afternoon punching more holes into the already abused straw-man. When she got bored with it, she exchanged Needle for a bow and kept shooting the poor effigy's head until it fell off completely. That only served to anger her and she continued shooting at the thing's torso until it looked like a hedgehog.

“I do believe that he's already dead.” Said aunt Lyanna behind her.

“Aunt Lyanna!” Arya complained, having missed the target with her last arrow because she was startled by her aunt's voice. She was even more irritated at herself for allowing her aunt to sneak up on her.

“You're not the only one, you know?” Asked aunt Lyanna. Arya looked at her questioningly. “Not the only woman in our family who prefers punching holes into straw-men instead of sewing and embroidering.”

“Care to join me?” Arya teased, but when aunt Lyanna shook her head, Arya sat down on the ground with her back to the stone wall and gestured to the ground beside her in a way of invitation. She was a little bit surprised when aunt Lyanna sat next to her.

“I think he's had enough.” Aunt Lyanna said jokingly, but then her expression became serious. “You and I might be alike in this mater, but we both know very well that Sansa isn't. She's not like us and I'm worried for her. I'm worried for you too, but more for her and not because she's the Queen. Killing isn't fun and leaves everyone mentally scarred. I don't want that for either of you. Especially, at such young an age. You are both so innocent still. And you've already learnt what it means to lose someone. I don't want you to learn that it means to take a life yourself. I know both of you are determined. You won't hesitate in a critical moment. But I wish you didn't have to. Can you not persuade Sansa to stay inside the Holdfast? Tell her that she's not ready? Tell her that she cannot fight well enough to defend herself yet?”

“I could, but it won't change her mind.” Arya said resigned. “She says she needs to be there and she won't budge on this. Not for me, not for you. The only people who could persuade her are either dead or far away.”

“Does she really intend to marry him? Lord Tywin?” Aunt Lyanna asked, correctly guessing that it was him that Arya spoke about.

“I believe so.” Arya replied. “She didn't sit down with me to talk about it, there hasn't really been time. And anyway she knows my opinion on the subject. But it really is the best choice. He ticks all the boxes.”

“Except the ones where love, kindness and devotion are.” Aunt Lyanna commented.

“If you believe so.” Arya made a face and aunt Lyanna asked her to elaborate. “Maybe I'm young and naïve, but that first time when they met... I watched them and there was that strange connection between them. She didn't think of him in a matrimonial or romantic category then, she was grief stricken. And later she sought him out for his counsel rather than company, but at the ball, before the news of war, when they were dancing together, there was this gentleness in his gaze that father only reserved for our mother. It was there only for a moment, but had you watched them as closely as I did, you would've seen it too. It was even before she'd asked him to be her Hand.”

“It seems unreal. He's so much older and she's so young.” Aunt Lyanna said.

“If it's any consolation, I don't think they'll get married as soon as the announcement is made. They'll probably wait until...”

But whatever Arya was going to say, her words disappeared in the sound of the bells ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters might not be as close together as these few have been. Sorry. But I'll try to get more done soon.
> 
> I want to use this opportunity to thank everyone who has commented and left kudos. I love writing and I'd do it anyway, but you give me a special boost that makes me want to do it even more. Thank you all for your unceasing support. It means the world to me!


	27. The Battle of the Blackwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess the title is self explanatory this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE HEED THE UPDATED TAGS AND WARNINGS! This chapter gets pretty ugly at one point and though I know it'll be a kind of a spoiler, I'd rather spoil your fun than have someone triggered by sensitive content. Reader discretion advised.
> 
> Parts of this chapter are written from a point of view of a regular soldier. I chose to name him Tom because... well, it's a good name. Many thanks to my friend Natalia who advised me to write it this way, it helped me a lot.
> 
> Many thanks to all those who commented on this work and supported me while writing this chapter. Some of you might find that I've heeded your advice and incorporated it into the story. Others might be slightly dissapointed that, despite their vehement protests, I stubbornly decided to do things my way. I still hope that you'll enjoy it though.

On her way out of the Red Keep Sansa wanted to stop by the Maegor's Holdfast. After all, it could be the last time she saw Rickon, Margaery and Shireen. When Sansa arrived there, she couldn't help smiling. Margaery was in a full management mode, ordering people about, comforting the scared and dealing with those who started panicking. They had come up with a story that Prince Brandon was sick and couldn't leave his chamber, to excuse his absence in the Holdfast. Rickon was keeping close to Margaery, but he instantly left her side when Sansa and Arya entered. Sansa hugged him closely and told him that she loved him. Shireen came up to Sansa when Rickon finally let go of her.

“I made this for you, Your Grace.” Shireen said, handing Sansa a bracelet. “I hope it will bring you good luck.”

“Thank you, Lady Shireen.” Sansa was really touched by the girl's gesture. “Will you help me put it on?” The girl nodded and fixed the gift onto Sansa's wrist. “I'm sorry you came to King's Landing in such a time as this.”

“I'm not, Your Grace, I'm glad to be here. And if you end up winning thanks to my bracelet bringing you luck, it might turn out that I came at the exactly right time.” Shireen said smiling brightly.

Sansa hugged the girl closely. She was glad that at least someone found something humorous in these events. At the same moment she heard sniggering from behind. When Sansa turned around she saw Joffrey come in escorted by his guard, a huge man with the left side of his face and neck covered in burn scars, and two of Sansa's guards, who were delegated to the task.

“So that's where our Queen takes her courage from! Cuddling with her cursed, half-dead pet-girl! We're indeed blessed if our Queen has such a source of her bravery! Do you think wearing a pretty armour will make you a warrior?” Joffrey asked.

Sansa felt ire rising in her. She had allowed Joffrey to meet his mother, she had allowed him out of his confinement and the first thing he did was to insult his cousin and Sansa's ward? She was about to answer him, but someone else preceded her in it.

“Says a boy who'll sit through the battle with women and children, while boys half his age squire for the knights who fight out there.” Said the man with the scars. “And you should know better than to insult a lady, especially one so fair. You should learn to keep your mouth shut.”

“You can't speak to me like that, dog!” Joffrey exclaimed outraged.

“And you can't speak the way you spoke to the Queen. Now shut up and find some knitting to do.” The man said and that finally shut Joffrey up.

“Thank you, Ser.” Sansa said.

“I'm no Ser, Your Grace.” The man replied.

Then he walked out leaving Sansa perplexed. It was interesting to see someone who could make Joffrey comply and who would dare to speak that way to the heir to one of the Seven Houses. However, Sansa didn't have time for wondering. She hugged Shireen one more time and walked over to Margery.

“I'm sorry for dumping Joffrey on you, Marg.” Sansa said quietly, so that only Margaery could hear her. “If he does something bad, just tell his guards and they'll escort him out of here. To a cell this time. Especially, if he upsets Shireen, okay?”

“I've got it, San. Don't worry about us. You have enough on your plate. And don't worry too much about that girl. She's stronger than everyone thinks.” Margaery said hugging Sansa close. “You still remember about our betrothal though? When will you make it public?”

Her words made Sansa smile. She had to go though and after a quick goodbye she was on her way.

“Who was that man who escorted Joffrey, Ser Jaime?” Sansa asked her Queensguard. She knew the scarred man was a bannerman of Lord Tywin's so it made sense to ask Ser Jaime about him.

“That was Sandor Clegane, Your Grace. He's the head of House Clegane. He doesn't like titles. And technically he was never knighted. He refused.” Ser Jaime explained.

Sansa wondered why someone would do that, but now was not the time to ask more questions. They all got on their horses and rode towards the River Gate where they expected the attack to be the most severe.

*** * * * * * ***

Tom was one of the twenty soldiers assigned to Queen Sansa's protection. Half of the men were guards of the Queen's household others, like Tom, were from the city watch. He was at the Mud Gate, where the Queen was to be during the battle, when the bells rang. He watched as the enemy's ships appeared on the waters of Blackwater Bay. At first only a few could be seen, but with every minute that passed there were more and more. There had to be a hundred or more! How could they fight so many? He knew the city walls were thick, but they weren't very well manned because even with the reinforcements from the Stormlands and the Reach, there weren't enough soldiers to man the walls properly. Tom was worried for his family who lived within the city walls. If the city fell, it would be sacked. His wife and their beautiful baby daughter would be murdered. Tom tried not to despair, but what chance did they stand?

And then he saw her. She came on horseback with her five Queensguards and the Princess Arya at her side. She was so young! But she was here on the battlements with them. Not in the safety of the Red Keep and Maegor's Holdfast, but out here sharing her soldiers' fate. While she was with them, how could they fail? Tom watched the Queen in complete awe. She was so very young, but since she became Queen the city was prospering as it had during her father's reign. And even though there was now a war, it was not of the Queen's making and she was personally leading them to victory.

“My loving people!” The Queen said facing her soldiers. “I have been advised, by those who see my safety as their first concern, that I should spend this battle in the safety of the Maegor's Holdfast. However, I have no desire to sit idly while you fight for this city which is as much a home to me as it is to you all. I know my body is young and weak, but my heart and will are hard as iron and sharp as steel. I am your Queen, by will of the Gods and my father, and I will not allow the Seven Kingdoms to be plunged into chaos and madness by a pointless rebellion.” The soldiers cheered loudly hearing her words and Tom joined in, but everyone stopped when the Queen raised her hand, signalling that she wished to continue. “We see the sails of the enemy approaching. We hear their battle cries over the water. Soon now, we will meet them face-to-face. I come here among you not to seek my own personal glory or to entertain myself watching the fight, but resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all!” This time the cheers were much louder than the first. “To lay down for the Old Gods and the New, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour, my blood and even my life should such a need arise! While we stand together no invader shall take our city. Let them come with the armies of the Seven Hells. They will not succeed!” The cheers were louder still. Tom cheered on top of his voice. At that moment he felt that they were invincible. “And when this day of battle is ended, we meet again in the Seven Heavens or on the field of victory.” The Queen concluded. She then drew her sword and raised it high in the air. The gleeful screams were deafening. Tom was now certain that they could withstand any attack.

The enemy ships sailed into the mouth of the Blackwater Rush and progressed towards the Mud Gate. When the first ones were in the middle of the distance Tom saw their special ships sailing their enemies' way. He was glad that the Ironborn were in for a nasty surprise. For a few minutes nothing happened, but then their ships reached their enemies' ones and Tom saw Lord Tyrion, the one they called the Imp, throw a torch over the walls. On that signal a few chosen archers on both shores of the Blackwater Rush shot flaming arrows at the ships.

The effect was instantaneous. The wildfire exploded with a vivid green flame setting everything ablaze. In a few moments half of the enemy ships were burning, with more and more catching fire every minute. The blaze was so bright that Tom had to close his eyes for a moment, but even with his eyelids shut, he could still see the brightness. When he opened his eyes the flames have slightly diminished, but they were still very bright. The wood was catching fire, so the colour of the flames was now mixed green and yellow. Tom had to admit that although he knew that the people below were suffering enormously and that they had to be terrified, the sight was beautiful. Both the first explosions that resembled some strange flourishing flowers and the dance of the double-coloured flames, were an amazing sight.

The ships at the very mouth of the Blackwater Rush had tried to flee, but they encountered the raised chain and now there was a pile of ships burning there. Unfortunately, some ships stayed outside the barrier. Tom, however, had no time to dwell on it because he noticed that some ships had managed to survive the raging inferno of wildfire and were making their way towards the shore. Tom had hoped that they might choose to retreat having suffered such a blow, but it seemed they were determined to carry on.

“Knock your arrows!” Tom heard the Lord Commander's order, repeated by other commanders along the walls. He prepared his bow and lit the arrow in the fire nearby. “Draw!” The enemies got off their boats and made their way towards the walls, carrying ladders and a battering ram. Tom could feel the tension in the air as he waited for the commander's next order. “Loose!”

Hundreds of arrows flew towards the attackers and tom felt a surge of joy seeing as they reached their targets. There was no time to dwell on that, however, because the orders came constantly. Draw. Loose. Draw. Loose. Again and again. As the enemies began nearing the wall some of the soldiers began throwing stones on their heads. From behind the walls the spitfires and trebuchets rained stones and burning missiles at the attackers.

The enemy soldiers gathered around the battering ram raising shields over their heads, and creating a shelter. However, the Lord Commander quickly concentrated the attack on those trying to attack the gate and they were decimated, by a storm of stones and arrows. Those who survived, had to drop the battering ram because it was too heavy for so few.

Tom was glad of the success. However, a new danger arose quickly. The enemy was bringing in ladders and dozens of people began climbing them. The archers and stone-throwers permanently discouraged some of them, but the rest climbed on top and the fighting began in earnest. Tom was still shooting arrow after arrow at the attackers. His squad was standing with the Queen on top of a tower, for her protection, so they didn't have a chance to use their swords yet, but the position awarded a perfect opportunity to shoot many enemies. Tom was quite proud of his shooting abilities. So far more than two thirds of his arrows had reached the targets he had intended them for.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa watched the unfolding battle with both dread and wonder. So far she had not much to do besides observing, unlike Arya who used her archery skills to take down enemy after enemy and every once in a while came to Sansa to boast the number of enemies she'd killed. It was morbid, but so much like Arya that in a way it was reassuring. Lord Stannis commanded the soldiers expertly, reacting swiftly to the enemy's moves and concentrating the forces in places where it was most needed.

Sansa was the first to notice that some of the enemies have regrouped on the bay, just outside the reach of the archers and were bringing things ashore from the ships. Big pieces of lumber were transported to the bay. Sansa signalled Lord Stannis to draw his attention to it. He joined her momentarily with a worried expression, unlike any Sansa had witnessed, on his face.

“What are they building, Lord Stannis?” Sansa asked.

“If it weren't for the size of the parts and the design, I'd say that they're assembling a normal trebuchet or a siege tower, but this... I have only seen such a thing in designs and heard talk of it. But only theoretically. A giant trebuchet meant to destroy the walls. It had never been built, mainly because your father's reign was mostly peaceful. But if the calculations behind it are correct, then judging by the size of those pieces, it could throw as much as 300 pounds.” Lord Stannis explained.

“Will that destroy our walls?” Sansa asked.

“Like I said, Your Grace. It has never been built before and if it has, the Ironborn kept it a secret. But according to the theoretical calculations it could.” Lord Stannis explained.

“What can we do about it? Can we target it with our own catapults?” Asked Arya.

“They're out of our range, but we're in theirs, Princess Arya.” Lord Stannis shook his head. “I have to ride out and prevent them from completing it.”

“How long, do you think, Lord Stannis, will it take them to assemble it?” Sansa asked.

Lord Stannis looked at the workers over at the shore, trying to estimate the time needed for the work to be completed. Sansa followed his gaze glancing at the worksite. The logs were big, but for now it didn't look like much. However, she had no reason to doubt Lord Stannis' words.

“They're working fast, but with the size of the parts, it'll take them at least an hour. That gives us time to prepare a raid out and take it down.” Lord Stannis said. “Lord Tyrion, do we still have some wildfire left?”

“Yes.” Lord Tyrion answered. His voice was careful and unsure. “Please, tell me you don't intend to ride out with a jar of wildfire, Lord Stannis.”

“It's the only thing that can guarantee that the machine will be destroyed.” Lord Stannis replied.

“Must you go personally, my Lord?” Sansa asked him.

“Your Grace, you, who have insisted upon being here yourself, should know best that I must.” Lord Stannis pointed out. The tone of his voice proved that he was already resolved on the subject.

Lord Stannis waved his hand at a man standing nearby to come over. He was a slight man with brown hair and beard. His face was rough, as if he had spent most of his life being subjected to sun, wind and rain. His clothes were plain and simple. But Sansa knew not to judge people by appearances.

“This is Ser Davos Seaworth, Your Grace. He's my trusted advisor, and by your leave, he'll help you and Lord Tyrion lead the defence while I'm outside the walls.” Lord Stannis introduced the man.

“I'll be glad for your help, Ser Davos. Any person Lord Stannis deems worthy of his trust, is welcome at my side.” Sansa said as greeting. She did mean it. She had come to rely on Lord Stannis' expertise on the battlefield and if he trusted and recommended this man, it was good enough for her.

“It's an honour, Your Grace.” Ser Davos bowed to Sansa. He had a strong accent and the way he spoke betrayed that he was a low born man who'd spent some time among the nobles and learnt to speak like them, but was not educated in his youth or at all.

Lord Stannis bowed quickly and left to gather men who would be riding out with him. Sansa watched him go. She hoped that the Ironborn only had this one machine, but she sent messengers with a warning to aunt Lyanna at the King's Gate and Lord Renly at the Iron Gate.

*** * * * * * ***

Tom watched as the Queen held a quick council with the commander, Princess Arya and the Imp. Tom was still shooting at the enemies, but his priority was the Queen's safety. Lord commander left the battlements and his right hand man took his place. His leaving made Tom worried, but he had faith in his Queen.

The enemies seemed to have somehow sensed the Lord Commander's leaving because their attack became more vicious than before. But the defenders didn't let themselves be outdone so easily. The new commander was a bit crude, but he was efficient and it was soon back to the regular game were the attackers would push hard and seem to succeed for a mere moment, only to be pushed right back by the defenders.

Tom watched in amazement when the Queen ordered the men on a part of the wall to fall a bit back, so that the enemies would think that they've succeeded in breaching the defence there only to have the archers massacre them moments later. He was even more astonished when he realised it was a ruse to divert the enemy's attention from the Mud Gate, so that the Lord Commander could ride out with his party. When the breach in the defence was sealed, the more skilled archers were directed to try to cover the Lord Commander's party on their way to the worksite. Tom wasn't an excellent archer. He was good, but not good enough to be sure that he wouldn't hit one of their own men in the swarming sea of bodies below, so he concentrated on shooting those who tried to climb the ladders.

Had Tom not been standing so close to the Queen, he wouldn't have known that she was the first one to notice their enemies coming towards the gate in another attempt of ramming the gate. This time, however, they were much better prepared. They were carrying a landing boat over their heads and were shielded from the sides, efficiently preventing arrows from reaching them. They even had archers who shot from the holes between the shields. They stopped at some distance from the gate and prepared to run at it.

Tom watched as the Queen reacted without hesitation. She talked to Ser Davos, who instantly gave orders to concentrate the attack on the enemies attacking the gate, she whispered something to the Princess Arya and then went down to the gate, giving orders to the men defending the gate and holding it close. Tom followed the Queen, but he hadn't heard what she'd ordered. Whatever it was, however, had to be really shocking because the commander at the gate looked dumbfounded. The Queen repeated her words and then moved to the side, concentrating on the Princess on top of the walls. Tom also looked up, just in time to see the Princess give a sign.

“Now!” The Queen yelled and the men at the gate flung it open.

The result was instantaneous and astonishing. Having met no resistance despite having been expecting it, the enemies with the ram ran through the gate and the momentum caused many to fall. The defenders quickly closed the gate behind them. What happened next was pure butchery. Tom would have averted his gaze, but he didn't dare because the Queen did not. She didn't look at the scene with glee, but neither did her face show dread. Tom could only observe strong resolve in her eyes. She didn't enjoy the scene, but she knew it was necessary.

Unfortunately, one of the enemy's archers managed to shoot an arrow before he was killed and it flew right towards the Queen and wounded her leg.

*** * * * * * ***

Arya was at Sansa's side in an instant. She had already been on her way down when she saw her sister get wounded. Sansa did stumble, but Arya was right there sneaking under her sister's arm, and taking Sansa's weight off her wounded leg.

“Help me stand straight.” Sansa demanded.

Arya hesitated. The wound wasn't very deep, but it was bleeding a bit too much for Arya's taste. She wanted to get Sansa to the Grand Maester as soon as possible. But Sansa looked at her sternly and Arya complied with her wish. Sansa simply stood straight and smiled at the soldiers close to her, showing them that despite her injury she was still standing tall and proud. Having enough of it Arya nudged her sister to move and this time Sansa complied. They went to a building near the gate where the Grand Maester was treating wounds. Arya led her sister to a chamber that was prepared for such a case especially and left Sansa with Ser Jaime while she went to look for the Grand Maester.

Arya found him as he finished treating a man who had had his leg chopped off. She quickly related what had happened and the Grand Maester followed her to the room where Sansa was waiting. On their way there Arya talked quietly with the Grand Maester. When they entered Arya saw that her sister was already sitting on the operating table and pressing down on her leg above the wound.

“I hope I'm not deterring you from some urgent case, Grand Maester.” Sansa said. Her words were polite, but Arya could see that Sansa found the whole situation annoying.

“Not at all, Your Grace.” The Grand Maester said,but anyone could hear that his words were not true. “May I?” He asked before he approached Sansa.

When Sansa nodded, Arya watched with no small amount of curiosity as the Grand Maester put a long piece of material around Sansa's leg, above the wound. Then he made a knot binding the ends together, put in a wooden handle in a loop that was created and started twisting it. In a few seconds the material was tight and the blood from Sansa's wound stopped flowing almost entirely.

“Could you hold this, Your Grace?” Asked the Grand Maester and he gave the handle to Sansa.

Arya wondered why he hadn't asked her or an assistant he could have had with him, but then she realised it was quite clever. It gave Sansa something to do while she was being treated, so that she wouldn't feel useless. The Grand Maester took out a bottle of clear liquid from his bag and to Arya's astonishment poured some over his own hands before drying them with clean linen cloth. Then he prepared a length of a very thin thread and a small needle. He poured some of the liquid over the thread and needle too.

“This will hurt, Your Grace.” The Grand Maester warned Sansa. “Do you want the milk of the poppy?”

“I can manage. I need my head clear for the battle.” Sansa replied bravely.

A moment later Arya was sure that her sister regretted her words when the Grand Maester poured some of the liquid over the wound. Sansa hissed like a kitten someone had accidentally stepped on, but she didn't move from under the pouring substance.

“What is that, Grand Maester?” Arya asked. She was really curious for she was quite sure from her sister's reaction that it wasn't simply water. Also, focusing on conversation would help take Sansa's mind away from the pain.

“It's alcohol. It keeps the wound clean and prevents infection. I'm not quite sure why, but I do know that it works.” The Grand Maester said.

“I've never heard of Grand Maester Pycelle doing that.” Arya commented.

“You won't hear of any maester doing that. I discovered this effect by accident.” The Grand Maester replied. “For reasons unknown alcohol cleanses the wounds far better than water does.”

“So why didn't you share your discovery with other maesters?” Arya asked while she watched him begin to stitch Sansa's wound.

The Grand Maester remained silent for a while, concentrating on his work. “I did, Princess. But the Maesters at the Citadel are set in their traditional methods and told me I should stick to those. They weren't fond of my experiments.”

“But you kept doing it anyway?” Arya asked.

“Arya, that's enough.” Sansa scolded her lightly.

“It's quite alright,Your Grace. I had to, Princess. If I knew it could help people, how could I give it up?” He asked though he didn't expect a reply. He finished stitching the wound and bandaged it with a clean piece of linen. “You're all set, Your Grace. The arrow only grazed your thigh and it missed the important arteries, but it had to be a nasty arrowhead because it went quite deep and tore a lot. I have to advise you against standing or walking at the moment or you'll risk aggravating your wound and tearing the stitches.”

“But I have to go back to the battlements. My soldiers have to see me coming back.” Sansa insisted. “When the battle is over, I'll rest for as long as you deem necessary, but I have to go.”

The Grand Maester looked to Ser Jaime and Arya as if he hoped they could convince the Queen. Ser Jaime was impassive and Arya nodded to him. Conceding, the Grand Maester took out a bottle from among his accessories and poured Sansa a cup of the substance it was filled with. “This will help you, Your Grace.”

*** * * * * * ***

Seeing the Queen take an arrow form the enemies was a terrible sight. Tom felt as if he himself had been hit when he saw her stumble. But she stood up straight a moment later and smiled reassuringly at all the soldiers. Tom felt blessed indeed. His Queen had smiled at him and her smile was truly beautiful. If she asked him in that moment for anything, he'd do it without a second thought. He would not hesitate to jump of the walls right at their enemies, should she ask him in that moment. The Princess Arya was at the Queen's side and helped her go down from the wall to have the wound checked by the Grand Maester, but Tom had no doubt whatsoever that the Queen would be returning to the battlefield soon.

And his hopes weren't in vain. They had only managed to fight off another attempt at scaling the walls, before the Queen rejoined the battle. She moved a little differently, but it was understandable considering her wound. When Tom saw her climb the steps up the walls once again, hope filled his heart. There was no way they could possibly loose, when being led by such a leader. The Queen went to talk to Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos.

A few moments later the Queen climbed down to the middle of the stairs and she stopped there. Her red hair were flying where her helmet ended and the crown that decorated it seemed to shine in the light of the torches.

“Listen to me! Listen!” The Queen demanded with her voice raised. It was slightly different than before and Tom thought that it had to be the pain from her wound, but she tried very hard not to show it. Though Tom thought her asking them to listen redundant. How could anyone not listen to her in that moment? “I come before you not as your Queen, but as an inhabitant of the city we all call home. They want to destroy our home. Kill our families and burn our homes. I might still be a girl, but I will not stand for that! Will you stand and fight with me?” She asked and a lot of enthusiastic voices answered her. “Not for me, not because I order you to, but for our families. For our home!”

The reply the Queen's words received was so loud that it had to make their enemies shake with fear even behind the walls. Tom screamed too. At the top of his voice. He would gladly lay his life for her and she wasn't even asking that. She asked them to fight for their families and she was willing to fight too. Tom watched in awe as the Queen drew her sword, got on her horse and followed by her Queensguard demanded to have the gate open.

Tom didn't know why she would choose to ride out from the city, probably something to do with the Lord Commander being out there, but it hardly mattered. Tom followed her. At this moment he would follow her to the Seven Hells. He was so close to her. It was amazing. In that moment, following her, Tom felt as if he were the Warrior himself. There was no more fear of their savage enemies. Nothing could hurt him.

They rode out through the gate upon their enemies who haven't been expecting it at all. The first few lines were cut down before they even managed to realise what was happening. The rest tried to form a line, but they didn't manage to. So fierce were the defenders led by their Queen, that no one could stand against them.

But then the enemies finally regained some composure and started fighting back. The Queen herself was ferocious. Tom had thought that she hadn't long been trained to fight, but he must have heard wrong. She was as skilled a warrior as her own Queensguards and she cut through their enemies mercilessly. Tom had little time to watch her, because he was fighting enemies of his own, but every now and then he stole a glance towards her. The Queen was so magnificent!

Tom stole another glance her way and witnessed as she punched a whole in her enemy's neck with a powerful thrust when he felt a terrible pain in his stomach. He didn't have time to think about his wound or death. His last conscious thought was that the Queen was somehow a little smaller than she'd been before.

*** * * * * * ***

When Sansa woke up her head felt as if it was filled with wool. What was happening to her? She remembered being in the battle. There had been people scaling the walls and enemy archers firing at them. Oh her leg! Sansa moved and felt an ache in her leg, but when she tried to touch it she realised that her hands were bound.

“Back with us, Your Grace?” Asked a voice Sansa didn't recognise. However, the way in which he'd said her title left her in no doubt of his being an enemy.

Sansa turned her head and saw a man in his mid thirties, with dark hair, a patch over his one eye and a Kraken on his armour. Her mind was fuzzy, but it managed to make the connection. She was at the mercy of Euron Greyjoy. Dread filled her for she'd heard many bad things about him, but then she decided she couldn't give up. Whatever happened, she had to find a way out. Her hands were bound, but she could still reach her head, where she had a sharp pin in her hair. But she needed to distract the enemy, so that he wouldn't notice her attempts at getting free. She wouldn't get a second chance.

“What have you done to Ser Jaime?” Sansa asked. She knew Ser Jaime was with her and Arya when they came in to seek the Grand Maester's help. He wouldn't have abandoned her even if Arya had done what Sansa suspected she had.

“Oh, you're worried for your little knight? That's almost sweet.” Euron mocked her. “I only knocked him out. One more life to hold over your head, so that you'd do what I say.”

“What do you want from me?” Sansa asked. Her hands were slowly, but methodically working on the binds. The legs would be a bigger problem, but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Luckily, it didn't seem that distracting her enemy was going to be a problem. He was so full of himself.

“You will marry me and I'll be the King or I'll kill everyone in the Holdfast. And all your siblings. Do you think that I don't know that your brother is at Rosby?” Euron asked, revelling in her discomfort and fear.

He knew where Bran was. But how? Bran left in secrecy. Only a few people in the city knew about it. Sansa was afraid for her siblings. What had happened to Arya? Was she still on the battlements pretending to be Queen Sansa? Did she do something stupid? Did the city fall? Where was Rickon? If Euron knew where Bran was, were his men after her brother already? Sansa saw Euron smirking, probably imagining what she was thinking. And that stupid smirk was all she needed to control herself. She couldn't help her family by panicking. She had to be in control of herself. She pretended to be afraid and worried, but she kept working. Slowly, she could feel the ropes give in.

“My niece who convinced my stupid brother that we needed to avenge Theon simply wanted to kill you, but I knew right away that there was a much better way of punishing your family's crimes against my family. One that would also best serve my own interests. You will become my wife and I will rule over the Seven Kingdoms. And to make sure everyone knows to whom you belong, I'll fuck you in front of the whole court.” Euron taunted.

Sansa didn't need to fake her reaction then. She could feel all the blood rushing from her face and knew she had to be even paler than usual. But she refused to let his words have more effect. She was afraid, but she had to do anything she could to protect her family. And if that meant killing this mad man, then so be it.

“I'll strip you bare in front of everyone.” Euron continued watching her discomfort with apparent enjoyment. “I'll sit on that ugly iron chair and I'll have you ride me as everyone watches.”

His hands touched her upper body and Sansa couldn't help but cringe. Unfortunately, the movement made the pin almost slip her from her fingers. Sansa fought to regain her hold on it while also fighting the revulsion she felt at having him touch her.

“Too bad you don't really have breasts yet. It would be good to see them bounce while I fucked you. Though you'll probably grow some before I'm done with you altogether.”

His hands travelled down her torso and to her breeches. Sansa thanked the Old Gods and the New that she was wearing breeches instead of a dress. Euron started to undo them and she could intensify her efforts. Finally, she was free! At least one of her hands. With one hand free Sansa quickly undid the bindings on her second hand. She pulled in all her strength in her back and sat up quickly, delivering the pin straight into her enemy's unpatched eye. He wailed in pain and anger and tried to grab her, but she threw herself of the table. Sansa knew she had seconds. His one eye was incapacitated and the one under the patch would be minutely blinded in the well lit room. She reached towards her legs that were now above her and undid the bindings. Sansa moved away from her attacker frantically looking for a weapon. Ser Jaime was lying in the corner unconscious, but his sword was under his body so she wouldn't be able to remove it. Sansa then noticed Needle, which Arya must have left when she disguised herself as Sansa, and grabbed her sister's sword. It was light and thin, but Sansa didn't doubt it was sharp enough to poke holes in someone. By then Euron had at least partially regained his sight because he moved towards her, intent to kill glinting in his sole remaining eye.

 _I need to get him away from Ser Jaime!_ Sansa thought as she bolted towards the door, hoping that in his rage Euron would follow her. Her assumption was correct because she heard his steps following out of the room and then out of the building to the courtyard.

“You cannot run from me, little queen.” He taunted from behind her. “You will be mine and you will pay for what you've done to me.”

“I wasn't running. I needed you away from Ser Jaime.” Sansa replied facing him. She was aware of soldiers around them, but everyone seemed paralysed to see their Queen fighting with the infamous Euron Greyjoy. They were walking around each other like two wolves. At one moment Sansa glanced to the side when she noticed a red wig and her beautiful armour and knew it had to be Arya. So her sister was alive!

That, of course, was the moment Euron chose to attack, but Sansa was ready for him. She knew she couldn't parr his blows with Needle, so she avoided them as best as she could. When she couldn't avoid them anymore she hit the side of Euron's sword, slightly changing it's trajectory causing him to miss and made a quick counter move to his right side where she hoped he wouldn't see it coming. He sensed it, but in the last moment Sansa changed the trajectory of Needle, targetting not his side, where he would have parred her blow, but his thigh where he only had leather breeches, poking a hole in it and feeling it go deep into the flesh. Euron screamed in pain, but he didn't drop his sword, aiming his swift counter attack at Sansa's unprotected belly.

Sansa jumped back, but her wounded leg failed her and she felt herself falling. She quickly controlled her fall, just as Arya had taught her, and managed to roll over her shoulder and landed in a crouch raising Needle above her head to try to parry the blow that would inevitably come. She knew she was unlikely to succeed. Needle would break and she would receive the full strength of Euron's blow. Yet the blow never came. Instead she heard a clash of swords above her head and then there was someone between her and her opponent. It was the same man whom she'd met in Maegor's Holdfast. Sandor Clegane, Ser Jaime had called him. In a few brutal blows her defender disarmed Euron Greyjoy, but before he dealt the last blow he looked at Sansa. She knew exactly what he was asking and nodded her head. It wasn't a conscious decision. She needed to know that Euron was dead if she was ever to feel safe again. Her defender raised his sword and with a quick blow cut off Euron Greyjoy's head. Sansa saw her attacker drop dead and then she collapsed due to blood loss and shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter might seem unclear or unfinished, but it was done intentionally. Please remember that Sansa knows even less than you do, though she figured some parts out, so she'll need answers and when she gets them, so will you. Of course, any questions you might have, I'll gladly hear, but I might refrain from answering them to keep things mysterious for a while longer. (Though, who am I kidding? You all know what's going to happen anyway.)


	28. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter came out kinda long. I hope it's alright. I know I intended to keep the chapters short, but then again I'm not the best at keeping my resolutions so... I hope you'll enjoy this.
> 
> Also if you want to "blame" someone for that first scene... check out [this work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773027?view_full_work=true) and particularly [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773027/chapters/26894526#workskin) by the amazing [Maracuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya). Seriously, if you haven't read it yet, I wholeheartedly recommend it.
> 
> This chapter is also kinda fragmented. I hope no one gets lost.

When Tywin rode into King's Landing after his and Tyrell forces relieved the siege he was surprised to see Queen Sansa dressed solely in a shirt and half-undone breeches fighting of an attack by none other than Euron Greyjoy with what looked like a long tooth pick. Why was she fighting alone? Sure everyone was even more shocked than he was, but where were her guards? Tywin moved his horse towards the place where they were fighting, saw her fall because of the wound on her leg and quite skilfully control that fall, but before he could reach them, there was already someone between the two fighting people. It was Clegane. Tywin had never been more grateful that he'd spared someone's life than in this moment.

Tywin had been glad to see that his forces arrived in time to relieve the siege, but he was quite furious when he saw the Queen fighting outside the gates. What was she thinking? Where were her advisors? Why didn't anyone advise her against it? Being on the battlements during the battle was one thing and he knew she would choose to do that, but riding outside the walls was complete madness. If he hadn't sat in it enough times, he'd be prone to believe that the Iron Throne actually made people mad like the common people sometimes said. He understood even less when he reached her and discovered it was actually Princess Arya who was disguised as the Queen. There was no time for long explanations, but she told him that her sister was wounded, but she was alright. Why then was she fighting with Euron Greyjoy all alone?

Tywin got of his horse quickly. He witnessed the moment the Queen nodded before the Hound killed her opponent. Tywin saw the moment her eyes turned inside out and he managed to catch her before she fell to the ground. The Princess was at their side in a moment and told him that the Grand Maester was in the building close to the gate. Tywin could have called for someone to carry her, but how could he know whom he could trust with her life? They hadn't done a particularly good job at protecting her. Chivalry be damned, she was worth more to him alive than dead. With her alive he'd be the Hand of the Queen. The most powerful and affluent man in the Seven Kingdoms. If she died, the Seven Kingdoms would be plunged into chaos. Tywin carried the Queen inside accompanied by Princess Arya.

*** * * * * * ***

Sansa was walking on the battlefield outside the River Gate. It was late afternoon of the day after the battle and the day would be ending soon. Sansa leaned heavily on the crutch the Grand Maester had advised and was now grateful for it. The wounded leg didn't exactly hurt, but it ached and Sansa knew she would have to go back soon. She had slept till noon and was still feeling drained of energy, but something had told her to come out here. She had realised it was possibly quite foolish, had seen the protest her Queensguard knew better than to voice. She could imagine the reproach in her mother's eyes, if she could see her. Yet Sansa was out here anyway. Something inside her had drawn her out here and she could not bring herself to regret it.

 _Father if you could see me now, would you be proud?_ Sansa thought towards the Heavens. Silence was her only answer, but Sansa had learnt to read the silence quite well.

The bodies of their enemies were being amassed onto the pyres and so were the bodies of the defenders, though those were treated with much more care. Most of the defenders that died would be burnt too, but their families would be given a chance to identify and mourn them. Some of the wealthier knights would be buried in family tombs.

Sansa looked for familiar faces on the battlefield. She knew she could not remember all the soldiers who fought for her, but she remembered many from when she'd inspected the troops in the days before the battle. Then she saw him. One of the soldiers from the city watch who had been assigned to protect her. Sansa didn't even know his name, but she had remembered his face, had seen it many times while they were defending the River Gate. Had Arya not ridden out, he could still be alive.

Sansa was suddenly reminded of how terribly sorry her sister was for what had happened to Sansa. Yet she seemed indifferent to the suffering she'd caused others. Or maybe Sansa was judging her too harshly. In the end Arya had only been trying to protect her. Maybe Arya had been so concerned that she shut everything else out. She had been extremely apologetic in her own way when Sansa came to.

*** * * * * * ***

When Sansa woke up she was in her bedchamber. Her leg hurt, her throat was dry and she was feeling weak. Her first impulse was to check if her hands were free, but fortunately there were no binds on them. Sansa looked around the room. Margaery was sleeping in the chair beside her and the door was left slightly ajar, letting the voices of people gathered in the adjacent chamber in.

“Hey, sis.” Sansa heard Arya's voice behind her and she turned to her sister. “You're finally awake.”

Sansa wanted to reply, but all that came out was an unintelligible noise. She was terribly thirsty. Thankfully, her sister understood that instantly. She helped Sansa up and gave her a cup of water.

“Here you go. I'll go and summon the Grand Maester to check on you.” Arya said, but Sansa needed to talk to her sister first.

“No, wait. First, we need to talk. Privately.” Sansa said gesturing towards the door. Arya understood and closed it, but not before talking briefly to someone on the other side.

“Marg.” Sansa said touching her friend's hand lightly. “Wake up.”

“Oh, hi.” Said Margaery waking up. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Don't be too hard on yourself, Margaery.” Said Arya. “You've been here all night and morning and you've only fallen asleep a short while ago.”

“You were both here the whole time?” Sansa asked incredulous. Judging by the light outside it was somewhere around noon.

“I admit to having gone out for a bit when I knew you were safe here. I had to get your armour off me and wash away the blood and dirt.” Arya said. “Margaery was with you since you were brought here from the hospital near the Mud Gate.”

“Where's Bran?” That was the most important question Sansa needed to ask.

“He's safe, San. He's waiting next door.” Margaery assured her. “Rosby was raided, but they didn't find him or the Reed siblings there. No one knows why, but they left Rosby earlier.”

“There's something you need to know about Bran. He sees glimpses of the future.” Sansa explained. Margaery didn't even try to hide how surprised she was. “Sorry I didn't tell you earlier.”

“Don't worry about it, San. You had a lot on your plate.” Margaery replied.

Sansa was glad that Bran was safe, but she needed to know other things too.

“What about the battle?” Sansa enquired nervously.

“We won.” Arya said. “In short words, when you got wounded, I took your armour, put on a wig and whitened my cheeks. I went out as you only to learn that Lord Stannis was in trouble outside the walls. They managed to burn the giant trebuchet, but were having a hard time fighting against the Ironborn who were furious for having failed in that. So I did the only thing I could think of. I gave a speech and rode out to help him. We managed to get to him and then the Lannister and Tyrell armies showed up. After that it was over quickly. Then we rode into the city only to see you fighting Euron Greyjoy. The Hound stepped in and when you fainted Lord Tywin caught you before you even hit the ground. He then carried you back to the hospital himself.” Arya's voice got excited. “I'm telling you, if I hadn't told you to marry him already, I'd tell you now. The picture the two of you made! And the reactions of people who saw him carrying you! Priceless!” Arya was in full matchmaking mode. “Oh and Robert captured the enemy ships that stayed outside the chain.” She added as an afterthought.

“How many have we lost?” Sansa asked her sister. She dreaded the answer, but neded to know it all the same.

“The losses at the garrison were surprisingly low. Lord Stannis lost the most men on his mission and I lost some when I rode out to help him. The relieving forces lost almost no one. We of course lost the ships that were sent against the Greyjoy army, but there were no men aboard. Oh and Lord Stannis...” Arya hesitated.

“Don't tell me he's dead.” Sansa pleaded as if it was dependent on Arya's words.

“No, he's not, but he was badly wounded. The Grand Maester takes care of him, but there's no guarantee that he'll survive. He'd be dead if we hadn't gotten to him.” Arya said.

“You took my armour.” Sansa said. It wasn't a question. She knew that it was true and she understood why Arya had done it. Still she was furious.

“I had to, sis. You said that you needed to go back out there, but that wasn't true. The Queen needed to go back out, but I couldn't let you go. I needed you safe. You were wounded and the Grand Maester said you shouldn't go.” Arya explained. “And I'm terribly sorry for what happened to you. I had no idea someone would know where you were.”

Arya looked extremely apologetic, but Sansa knew that it wasn't because of what she'd done, but because Sansa had been ambushed by Euron.

“You were prepared for it beforehand.” Sansa's tone was accusatory. She wasn't going to let Arya of the hook so easily.

“I was.” Arya admitted. “Can you blame me though? I couldn't let you die. We have so little family left. And I cannot be Queen.” Arya looked worried and apologetic, but her words were unyielding.

“You convinced the Grand Maester to drug me?” Sansa asked even though she already suspected that it was true.

“Before we arrived at your chamber in the hospital, I told him that should he deem you unfit for battle, he should give you something to help you sleep. He agreed that we needed to keep you safe.” Arya said. Something in her voice told Sansa that Arya had to go to some lengths to persuade the Grand Maester.

“Well I wasn't safe.” Sansa countered.

Arya paled instantly and her face became completely apologetic. Sansa almost felt badly for her. However, she couldn't forget Arya's deception so easily.

“I know and I'm so terribly sorry.” Arya said, her voice breaking. “I left Ser Jaime with you, but I couldn't leave the whole Queensguard because people would think it strange. And I didn't leave more guards with you because no one was supposed to know.” She tried to explain her perspective.

“It wasn't your fault. I might disagree with your methods, but you couldn't have foreseen that.” Sansa reassured her sister. “Which is exactly why I wanted to talk to the both of you privately before I talk to anyone else. Someone betrayed us. Someone told Euron where Bran would be. Someone told him how to get into the city unnoticed. And someone told him where I was. I don't know whom I can trust.”

“Who knew about Bran's leaving?” Margaery asked.

“Besides the three of us? The Small Council members, the Reed siblings and the few guards who left with them.” Sansa replied.

“Who could have known you were at the hospital?” Margaery continued her inquiry.

“It had to be someone who would recognise that I wasn't you.” Said Arya. “It could be any number of people.”

“Or it was someone already on the inside.” Margaery suggested.

“Only four people knew Sansa was there. Me, Sansa, the Grand Maester and Ser Jaime.” Arya replied.

“Exactly.” Margaery countered.

“You cannot suspect the Grand Maester or Ser Jaime.” Sansa added incredulous.

“Why not? What do you know about the Grand Maester Samwell?” Margaery asked with her inquiring voice.

Little. That was the real answer to Margaery's question. But Sansa wasn't going to admit that out loud. She had to have faith in people around her. Yes, it was her job to doubt almost everyone, but that didn't mean she would turn paranoid.

“That if he wanted to kill Sansa, he wouldn't have tried so hard to patch her up.” Arya saved Sansa the trouble of defending the Grand Maester.

“He didn't want to kill me.” Sansa said quietly.

“Yes, he didn't.” Arya agreed before her mind caught up with the true meaning of Sansa's words. “You mean Euron? It looked like he damn well did.”

“No, he wanted me to marry him and to be King. His description of what he was going to do to me was quite graphic.” Sansa grimaced involuntarily.

Both her sister and her friend paled visibly imagining what her words meant.

“I'm so sorry, San.” Margaery said.

“I'm sorry too.” Arya added. “I'm sorry he's dead because I'd love to poke some holes in him and cut off his cock.”

“Arya!” Sansa exclaimed.

“He would have deserved it.” Arya replied unashamed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Anyway I don't believe it was the Grand Maester.” Sansa said.

“Because you want to believe the best of everyone.” Arya countered. “But you need to be wary. Before you're sure of his character and loyalty, you need to be careful around him.”

“The Grand Maester knows about Bran's gift. If he were the spy, he would have told Euron about that too.” Sansa pointed out.

“And what of Ser Jaime?” Margaery asked.

“What of him?” Sansa was so lost in the thoughts of what had happened that she failed to see Margaery's point.

“He knew where you were.” Margaery pointed out. “And he was there the night your parents and brother were murdered. And he was conveniently knocked out, not killed yesterday.”

“I will not doubt Ser Jaime without proof. And I forbid you from speaking about this with anyone.” Sansa replied strongly. “Moreover, Euron himself told me that he hadn't killed Ser Jaime, only to hold his life over my head.

“Alright, fine. I'm not pointing a finger here. I'm enumerating the possibilities.” Margaery said placatingly.

“Ser Jaime swore an oath to father and me. I will not doubt his honour.” Sansa replied strongly.

“He also swore an oath to the Mad King.” Arya pointed out, straightforward as ever.

“The difference between Aerys and me is that I would never order Ser Jaime to kill innocent people or his family.” Sansa countered.

“But you did upset his beloved sister.” Arya dragged on.

“I'm telling you again. I will not doubt Ser Jaime without proof.” Sansa was quite firm.

“And if I find proof?” Arya asked.

“Then I will consider it carefully before taking any rash actions.” Sansa replied firmly.

Sansa moved on the bed and felt a searing pain her leg. Why did it hurt so much?

“Alright. Remember to be careful what you say and to whom. Don't trust anyone who isn't family. And don't go anywhere without Lady and Grey Wind at your side.” Arya warned. “I'll summon the Grand Maester now, to see to your wound. Anyone else you want to see?”

“Send Bran in too. Who else is there?”

“Rickon, Robert, Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime.”

“That's a lot of lions. Is aunt Lyanna alright?” Sansa asked. She had thought aunt Lyanna would be here with them.

“She's fine. But I sent her to sleep at daybreak. She was exhausted.”

“So must you be. Send Rickon in with Bran and tell Robert I'll see him when the Grand Maester leaves. But the two of you must go rest.”

“I'm not leaving your side.” Arya protested. “But you, Margaery, should go.”

“Arya, I'll be fine.” Sansa tried to convince her sister.

“No. I won't let you persuade me. I should never have left you there.” Arya said stubbornly.

“It wasn't your fault. It was his and the traitor's. You couldn't have known.” Sansa explained again. She was still a bit cross with her sister for deceiving her, but she didn't hold her responsible for what had happened with Euron.

“I should have at least considered it as an option.” Arya countered, still visibly cross at herself.

“You won't be able to protect me if you're too exhausted to move.” Sansa tried to persuade her sister again.

“Please, Sansa. Let me stay. At least till you've talked with them.” Arya insisted.

“You don't think me to be in any danger, do you?” Sansa asked.

“That's exactly the kind of thinking I was afraid you'd indulge in.” Arya replied. “I've told you. Don't trust anyone.”

“Fine. You can stay.” Sansa relented. “Margaery, you can stay too, but if you're tired, you can go.”

“I'll pass, San. I'm not as young as the two of you and I need my beauty sleep.” Margaery said jokingly, but she did look tired.

*** * * * * * ***

A faint coughing interrupted Sansa's thoughts. Good Gods! The soldier was alive. Sansa quickly signalled some men who were transporting the wounded to a tent where they were being treated by medics under the Grand Maester's supervision. While they waited Sansa knelt down next to the wounded man. He was barely conscious which was probably why he hadn't called for help or been noticed before. Sansa took his hand in her own and held it. Slowly he turned his head towards her, his eyes focusing on her.

“Help is on their way.” She reassured him, not knowing exactly what to say. “What's your name?”

The soldier answered feebly. “Tom, Your...”

“Shh... you can spare the titles for when you're recovered.” Sansa told him. “I'm here, Tom.”

“My... my family?” He asked with worry written across his face despite the pain he had to be in.

“I'll make sure they're alright.” Sansa said. It was a promise she was definitely going to keep. “And you'll tell them of your bravery yourself when you're better.”

The men who were going to carry him finally came and Sansa watched as they lifted him between them.

“I'll pray for your recovery.” Sansa said to Tom.

Despite the pain that was clearly visible on his face, Tom smiled slightly.

“It's enough to know you're safe.” He whispered before they carried him away.

Sansa was left shocked. Did he really care so little for his life? Or maybe it was something deeper. Maybe it was the knowledge of having fulfilled his duty that had him so relieved. Sansa had no idea she could be a source of such feelings and it left her with a strange sense of contentment. She was still worried for the soldier's – Tom's – life, but she was glad that he didn't resent her for almost loosing it in her defence.

Sansa walked across the battlefield, but now she wasn't wandering aimlessly. She walked towards the tent where the wounded were taken care of. She knew that the Grand Maester would be there and for a moment she wondered whether things would be awkward between them. Sansa couldn't help smiling slightly remembering their interactions from earlier that day.

*** * * * * * ***

Arya walked to the door inviting the Grand Maester in and calling Bran and Rickon. The boys almost ran into the room and hugged Sansa, though Arya managed to guide them towards Sansa's not wounded side. The Grand Maester walked in slowly, almost hesitantly. When he closed the door behind him Sansa spoke.

“Do you know what the punishment for treason is, Grand Maester?”

Sansa could see him grow pale. She could also see her sister roll her eyes, but Arya refrained from commenting.

“Death, Your Grace.” He replied quietly.

“That's correct, Grand Maester.” Sansa confirmed. “It is a good thing then, that I have asked you to relieve my pain when you stitched my wound during the battle and it wasn't your fault if my weakened by blood loss body, reacted more strongly than any sane man could imagine, isn't it, Grand Maester?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” His words were almost a question.

The Grand Maester's voice was so hesitant that Sansa almost felt sorry for him. She believed he had wanted well and that Arya could be quite persuasive, especially if she had Needle with her. But she had to make sure that it would never happen again.

“Otherwise the person who betrayed their Queen and disobeyed her direct order would have to be sent to the Wall, but for poisoning their Queen they'd have to be beheaded. Is that clear Grand Maester?” Sansa raised her voice slightly asking that question to drive the message home.

“Yes, Your Grace.” He replied again.

“Very well then.” Sansa dropped the serious tone and talked more lightly. “Can you please see to my wound now, Grand Maester?”

Sansa could see that he was slightly confused by the sudden change in her mood, but he didn't dare question it. He walked over to the side of her bed and carefully removed the bandages that covered her wound. It was an ugly red gash, stitched neatly, though Sansa could see that it had to be stitched again, probably because she'd torn the stitches fighting with Euron. It would scar too. Sansa realised it, but was surprised that it wasn't very shocking to her. Before she became the Queen she had despaired over even a small bruise, but now she understood that it was inconsequential.

“This salve contains ingredients that will keep the wound clean and lessen the pain you feel, as well as some additions that make it smell pleasantly. May I apply it, Your Grace?”

When Sansa nodded in consent, the Grand Maester applied some salve and then bandaged the wound with clean bandages again.

“I had restitched the wound when you were unconscious, Your Grace. But I would advise you against straining the leg too much. You can walk, but I would also advise the use of a crutch or a cane to take the weight of the wounded leg for at least three days. It's also paramount to keep the wound clean. You can wash it or use the baths, but you should apply the salve afterwards.” The Grand Maester said placing a jar of it on the bedside table. “Should you need something more for the pain or should you be concerned about the state of the wound, I'm always at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester.” Sansa said sincerely. “You may leave us.”

“Your Grace.” He bowed deeply though it looked somewhat awkward with his stature.

When the Grand Maester left Sansa looked at Arya and shook her head slightly. Arya nodded though it was small and seemed forced. Arya didn't like to admit to being wrong, but they were both mostly sure that the Grand Maester wasn't the traitor. Sansa looked at Bran.

“You saw that you would be in danger at Rosby?” She asked.

Bran nodded. “I had a feeling. But I also saw him coming for you. But not earlier. I saw it and I knew it was happening at that moment.”

Sansa wasn't shocked by this revelation. When she had talked to Jojen Reed about his and his sister's accompanying Bran to Rosby he had told her that Bran's talent would allow him to one day see not only the future, but also the past and the present in different places. However, Jojen said it could take years. Bran's skill developed in months, maybe even weeks. That meant his gift was both stronger, but also more difficult to control than Jojen had predicted.

It also meant that with enough practice, Bran would be able to tell Sansa exactly who killed their parents, their brother and the late Hand and who betrayed her to Euron. Sansa wasn't going to get her hopes up and she wasn't going to stop looking for evidence, but it would be easier if she had Bran's help.

“Have you talked to Lord Jojen about it?” Sansa asked her brother.

“No. I wasn't sure you'd want me to. They saw me have the vision, but I didn't tell them what it was about.” Bran explained.

Sansa was grateful for his consideration. What happened between Euron and her would haunt her even without it being on the mouths of the whole city. Oh, she had no delusions about the gossip spreading far and wide already, but the less truth they contained, the better. However, she couldn't risk Bran's sanity over her own privacy and Jojen had warned her that if Bran didn't learn to control his abilities he could go mad.

“You can talk to him about it. I need you to tell him that you saw the present at a different location. But remind him that if he speaks of this to anyone I didn't approve of, he'll have to answer to me.” Sansa told Bran.

“Can I tell him you'll have his tongue ripped out out if he tells your secret?” Bran asked.

“No, Bran!” Sansa exclaimed. She was aware that Bran liked macabre stories, but that he'd want her to actually do such a thing... “We're not barbarians. We don't use such punishments.”

“Oh, I know. I just wanted him to be a little afraid. I actually like him.” Bran said.

*** * * * * * ***

When Sansa walked into the tent she didn't actually see the Grand Maester, though one of his servants was at her side immediately, asking if she wanted to summon the Grand Maester. Sansa thanked him, but saw no reason to interrupt whatever the Grand Maester was doing for these people. However, she asked the man about the strange arrangement of this makeshift hospital. She had immediately noticed on her arrival that the wounded who lay on the right side of the tent were well tended, their wounds dressed, people attending them and their beds as clean as could be in these circumstances. However, those on the left side were in a much worse conditions.

“Oh, it's a simple distinction, Your Grace.” The man replied. “Those on the left side are the Ironborn. We treat them because it's our duty, but no one here feels like doing much more for them. And when it comes to choosing between our men and theirs, it's not really a choice, is it?”

Sansa nodded and wondered at this. She was surprised that they were treating their enemies. Yet it made sense. To a medic, a wounded person was a wounded person.

“Why aren't they in the hospital behind the River Gate?” Sansa asked him.

“These here are the ones that are heavily wounded and moving them could be dangerous for them.” He replied. “Those who are well enough to be moved, are transported there.”

Sansa walked along the right side of the tent, exchanging a few words with those who were awake and praying silently to Mother for those who were asleep or unconscious, so that she'd take care of them. Sansa's visit brought a lot joy to the previously mostly silent tent and she was glad she had come. For her it was little hardship, when she used the crutch her leg ached only slightly, and it clearly meant a lot to those people.

Sansa also felt that the soldiers treated her differently than they have before the battle. Then they have treated her with respect, but also with reserve. As if they expected her to run at the first sight of danger. Now they treated her as if she were one of their own. They still addressed her with respect and used her title, but there was a newly acquired familiarity in their behaviour and addresses. By having fought alongside them and being wounded in the process she had become one of them.

At the very end of the tent there was a section that was separated from the rest by a curtain. Sansa had seen the Grand Maester walk over there and she could hear raised voices from there. One of them was the Grand Maester's, the other she recognised as Robert's. Robert had been a little angry when she saw him earlier, but this was different.

*** * * * * * ***

Margaery had left with the boys and Arya let Robert in. Sansa knew she should have seen Lord Tywin earlier, he was not a man to be forced to wait, but then again he had chosen to do so. And Robert for all his faults was her father's best friend and had helped her enormously. This wasn't an audience, it was Sansa's bedchamber and she would let people in when she wanted. Oh she knew she was the Queen no matter if it was in the throne room or in her private chambers, but that wouldn't stop her. Besides, she wanted to get dressed before she saw Lord Tywin and for that she would need Robert's help to walk over to the dresser. Arya could help her, but Sansa was heavier than her sister and if her leg failed her, Arya wouldn't be able to catch her.

“Are you so determined to die that you'd put yourself in the front line?” Robert asked and Sansa was going to reply, but he actually walked over to Arya enveloping her in his bear-hug. “You weren't much better on those battlements.” Robert addressed Sansa then. “What were the two of you thinking? What would your father say if he could be here? I know that he wouldn't let me rest in peace if any of you died.”

“Father would be proud.” Arya countered, freeing herself from Robert's arms. “What we did was necessary and it was honourable. He would have done no differently.”

“Yes, but your father was a seasoned warrior.” Robert said. “You two are girls of eleven and nine.”

“You're just too stubborn to say that we did well.” Arya argued.

“Alright, I admit that you did.” Robert conceded. He walked over to Sansa and hugged her gently. “I'm just glad that you're both alive and mostly well.”

“Shouldn't you...” Arya began, but Sansa sent her a look of warning. She knew what Arya was going to ask and she also knew it was a delicate topic.

However, it seemed that Robert understood what was on both their minds all too well.

“Shouldn't I be with my severely wounded brother?” He finished the question for Arya. “I should. But I had to make sure you were alright first.”

“Even though he might die?” Arya persisted.

“Yes. My brother is a grown man. He knew what he was doing, but the two of you...” Robert didn't say more but shook his head. “I never really loved my blood brothers. Your father was the brother I chose. I needed to know you were fine.”

Sansa didn't know what to say to that. Robert's care for their well-being was touching, but his negligence of his own family was worrying. However, Sansa didn't have the strength to argue over it.

“Could you help me walk over to the dresser?” Sansa asked.

Robert disregarded her request and simply carried her over there. 

“Go, see your brother, alright?” Sansa asked him. “If it weren't for him, the city could have been taken. If not for your own sake, do it for me. For that.”

*** * * * * * ***

As Sansa neared the source of the voices, they became clearer and she could actually make out some words.

“...kraken spawn near my brother?” Robert asked quite enraged.

The Grand Maester replied more quietly and Sansa didn't hear his words, but she didn't need to.

“She's your patient too?!” Robert bellowed. “She's our enemy and you should have killed her the moment you saw her instead of stitching her up.”

Once again the Grand Maester replied quietly and Sansa couldn't hear his words.

“Give me a moment alone with her and you won't have to worry about treating her ever again.” Robert replied menacingly.

The Grand Maester was about to answer when Sansa reached the curtain and walked in. Both men were startled enough by her appearance that they stopped their argument. The Grand Maester took a step back and for a moment Sansa thought that he was still worried about her threats, but then she realised that he moved to position himself between her and a bed behind him. Both men waited for her to speak first.

“Your argument is getting too loud and you're disturbing the patients. I'm quite sure you're both capable of continuing it in a more civilised manner.” She looked them both in the eyes, taking in Robert's rage and the fear mixed with resolve in the Grand Maester's eyes. “Grand Maester, I have come to inquire about Lord Stannis' state.”

Before the Grand Maester could answer Robert cut in. “His state won't matter at all once she wakes and finishes the job her countrymen started.” He said with resentment in his voice.

“Lord Robert, I would like to have the opportunity to hear the Grand Maester's reply.” Sansa stressed his title, reminding him that he was overstepping even his boundaries. “If you cannot grant me that, I would ask you to give us a moment of privacy.”

Robert stayed, but said nothing more.

“His state is stable, Your Grace, but there isn't much I can do. It's his fight as much as it was during the battle. If his body can start healing itself, he will recover, but if it doesn't...” The Grand Maester left that part unsaid. “He suffered a terrible blow to his chest. One that didn't pierce his armour, but rather caused it to deform and in result break several of his ribs inside his body. It's a miracle that none of them punctured a lung or broke through the skin from the inside. In both such cases he'd be dead already. I tried to place the ribs in positions they're supposed to be, but it's not an easy task from the outside. I think they're mostly in the right places, but it's important that he won't move or be moved, so I had to sedate him. All I can do now is lessen his pain and wait.”

Sansa wanted to ask how long till they would know whether Lord Stannis would recover, but the truth was that she didn't want to know when hope would be gone. She would pray for him to recover till he recovered or died. Instead she decided to discover the reason of Robert's wrath.

“Who is on that other bed?” Sansa asked.

“See for yourself, Your Grace.” Said the Grand Maester. “Don't worry, she's unconscious.”

Sansa was going to reproach him for withholding the answer she sought, but curiosity won over her irritation and she walked over to the other bed. Although decisively female, the face she saw was impossible for Sansa not to recognise. She had grown up with a male though a little younger version of this person.

“That's Asha Greyjoy!” Sansa said surprised. There was no other way to explain why this woman looked so much like Theon.

“Yes.” Robert said angrily. “Now perhaps you might understand my agitation, Your Grace.”

“Your Grace, she's still a wounded person and a noblewoman.” Said the Grand Maester.

“What if I told you I was going to execute her when she recovers? Would you still treat her?” Sansa asked him.

“Are you going to?” The Grand Maester couldn't help asking, but then he realised that he failed to answer her question. “I would, Your Grace. Treating her is my duty, regardless of what happens later.”

“Do your duty then.” Sansa said then she answered his question. “What happens to her will depend on her actions. And whether or not Lord Stannis makes it.” If he died Sansa would hold the woman responsible, since she was one of the leaders of the attack. “I also want a sentry stationed here in this part of the tent. Mostly for Lord Stannis' safety, but also for hers.” Sansa looked pointedly at Robert. “And I want her tied to the bed.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The Grand Maester replied.

Considering the matter as resolved, Sansa walked over to Lord Stannis' bed. He was lying on his back and his chest was heavily bandaged. His dark hair was a mess and his skin had an unnatural colour. She said a quick prayer to Mother and a silent thank you to Lord Stannis himself. In the days before the battle, not only had he become an invaluable advisor, but also someone Sansa could rely on. Someone whom she would like to have at her side if she married Lord Tywin, to serve as a sort of counterweight to her future husband.

Sansa walked out of the make-shift hospital thinking about Lord Tywin. She couldn't quite figure him out. Their meeting earlier that day had been brief, but also meaningful as always.

*** * * * * * ***

Arya summoned Sansa's handmaidens and sent someone to find a crutch for Sansa. The handmaidens helped Sansa get dressed and by the time it was done, Arya handed her a crutch. It was quite a beautiful thing, surely commissioned by someone from the Targaryen dynasty, since it had dragons alongside it. It was wooden, but decorated with gold and gems. Arya helped Sansa get up slowly, but Sansa soon discovered that she was able to walk quite fine provided she didn't put too much weight on the wounded leg. Sansa thanked her handmaidens and asked Arya to invite Lord Tywin to her solar, then went there through another door.

Lord Tywin came in proceeded by Arya. Sansa couldn't fail but notice that he looked tired. It was no wonder, for to be able to ride back to King's Landing from Lannisport in time to arrive for the battle he and his army had to maintain a very fast pace. Sansa also couldn't help but wonder why he had wanted to see her. Somehow she doubted that he'd come to enquire after her health.

“I hear I have you to thank for relieving the siege, Lord Tywin.” Sansa began. She would have to thank Lord Tyrell too, but that could wait. For now she had to deal with Lord Tywin. “And more personally for carrying me back into the hospital.”

“I hear that you fought protecting yourself, but also my son.” Lord Tywin countered, but Sansa could read more into his words. He was saying that she owed him no debt. “But I didn't come here to be thanked. I came to tell you that my brother has seized the Iron Islands. All seven major islands are under his control and whatever few ships remained there have been confiscated. Balon Greyjoy has been captured and is now being held in a cell at the Pyke.”

Sansa listened with great care to his words. Of course, someone like him would have used such an opportunity when it presented itself. Even if he had rushed to come back to the capital, for which she really was grateful, he wouldn't have let such an occasion pass him by. The question, however, was what he was going to do now. Sansa knew that other Houses wouldn't take lightly to seeing the Lannisters take over the Iron Islands, but at the same time, she was aware that should Lord Tywin wish to keep that territory, she would have no way of denying it to him. His armies were controlling the territory and fighting him over it was out of the question. Moreover, if he chose to rule over the Iron Islands she could not choose to marry him. The power imbalance between them, which was already something hat she had to consider, would then be even bigger. True, she was his Queen, but that didn't mean she had real power over him. Her inexperience and youth belied any such claim.

“What would you have me do with them, Your Grace?” Lord Tywin asked her.

The shock Sansa felt had to show on her face if only momentarily. She couldn't quite believe that he would willingly give, what she wouldn't even ask of him. After a few long seconds Sansa realised that he was still waiting for her answer.

“I will need some time to consider this matter, but thank you for coming with it to me right away, Lord Tywin.” Sansa said simply.

Lord Tywin bowed to her and when she nodded left her presence, leaving Sansa totally perplexed. Arya asked if she wanted to see Ser Jaime and Sansa agreed, knowing that she needed to talk to him.

“You're one of my Queensguard, Ser Jaime.” Sansa said when the knight entered. “You don't need to ask permission to see me.”

“Am I still, Your Grace? I would have thought that you wouldn't want me as your Queensguard after I failed you so much.” He said.

Sansa could see the worry on his handsome face. He had to realise the implication of his statement. The Queensguard was service for life. There was no precedent of someone resigning from it. There couldn't be. If he thought she didn't want him as her Queensguard, he had to think that she'd have him executed.

“I don't consider what happened to be your fault, Ser Jaime.” Sansa assured him. “Unless, you were the one who told Euron Greyjoy where I was, but I don't think that you were.”

The look of utter horror and disgust on Ser Jaime's face was in its own right an answer to Sansa's inquiry. Sansa had always known him to be an honourable man and she knew that such a betrayal went against everything he valued.

“I wanted to apologise anyway, Your Grace. I should have protected you better.” Said Ser Jaime.

“None of us can turn back time and change the past. But we can learn from our mistakes and do better in the future. You've protected me and my family in the past and you'll have ample opportunity to do so in the future. A battle is hard to predict and impossible to control.” Sansa said. “As it is we got away mostly unscathed.”

“Thank you for being so forgiving, Your Grace.” Ser Jaime said, bowing.

“You've not yet failed me, Ser Jaime.” Sansa said. “I hope such day never comes.”

*** * * * * * ***

When Sansa reached the River Gate, there was a litter waiting for her and she was actually grateful for it. She had unwittingly walked quite a lot and was feeling tired, but hoped that she didn't tear the stitches again since she'd been moving slowly.

Sansa knew that she would need an answer for Lord Tywin's question and soon. But seeing Asha Greyjoy in that tent, actually gave her an idea. Yes, the woman had been one of the leaders of the attack against her and Sansa didn't doubt that Asha held her responsible for Theon's fate, but she hoped that maybe due to her young age, the young woman would be willing to listen to reason and build something instead of setting the world on fire.


	29. Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter... well... It happened. I couldn't say no to it. A version of it was actually what gave me the idea for this whole story, but of course it had to demand to be changed quite some. What came out, you can see below, but I have to warn you... If you had any doubts about my being mad, you should bury them deep... I'm really excited about this. Because you'll either love it or you'll hate it. I win or I lose. There's no middle ground.
> 
> Warnings about this one? I don't even know! Possible trash possibly maybe?

His disgusting hands were all over her. She tried to get away, tried to cut with a hairpin the ropes binding her, but it didn't work. His touch was sickening, but Sansa couldn't do anything about it. She'd tried to get away, she'd tried calling for help, but no one came. There was only him and her. And his hands groping her young, virgin body. His hands went down to her breeches, started undoing the bindings on them. Sansa's heart was racing so fast with fear that she thought it might explode.

Sansa woke up screaming and covered in sweat. Ser Brynden was at her side in an instant, looking around for an intruder. Sansa slowly realised that it had been a nightmare and shook her head, unable to speak yet. It took a few moments for her to settle, remembering that Euron was dead and he could not harm her.

“I'm sorry. It was just a bad dream.” She said weakly.

“I'm here, alright? Whether it's a nightmare or an intruder, I'm here to protect you.” Her uncle said.

Sansa still felt stupid for having raised an alarm over nothing. She also felt completely dirty as if she needed to scrub every inch of her skin clean. It wasn't due to the sweat covering her body.

*** * * * * * ***

Lord Tywin looked so positively murderous that Sansa didn't even wonder why the guards at the door didn't stop him. They were regular guards and not her Queensguard after all. Also, Lord Hand would usually have access to the Queen at most hours of the day and he even had the right to wake her up in some critical situations. His coming to her when she was in the baths, however, was still unusual. Fortunately, Sansa was already done bathing and she was fully dressed when he entered. There was something strange about his looks too. Rather than his usual leather outfits, Lord Tywin wore a robe, like Lord Varys often did. When he strode in, Lady Brienne moved to stand between the Queen and the furious Great Lion.

“It's alright, Lady Brienne.” Sansa said motioning to her knight to stand down. She could see the hesitation in the woman's eyes, but luckily the knight chose not to question her Queen's authority in front of the agitated man. “Lord Tywin, to what do I owe the honour of your company?”

Sansa's polite tone and words seemed to work like oil poured into the fire. Lord Tywin, usually well composed and calm even in his wrath, all but exploded.

“You dare do such a thing? To me? I am not your pawn! Do you think you can humiliate me at will?” He almost yelled.

Sansa had honestly no idea what he was talking about. Yet to admit ignorance would be a weakness and she could not show weakness while he was towering over her and all but yelling. She would not tolerate such a behaviour form anyone and she would be damned if she let him intimidate her.

“I do not dare to do things, Lord Lannister.” Sansa said in an ice cold, though calm voice. She addressed him formally as if reminding him of the titles he'd avoided. “I simply do them. And I ask permission only of the Gods, Lord Lannister. You, my Lord, are not one of them.”

“So you think that you can do as you please, my Queen?” Lord Tywin used her title this time, but it sounded more like threat than anything else. “You're more naïve than I thought then. Maybe you're even mad. Fortunately, the Realm has a way of dealing with mad rulers by now... All it takes is one slighted Lord...”

Lord Tywin's words were like knives that tried to cut at her. Sansa was shocked by his reaction. What could have angered him that much?

“You are forgetting yourself, Lord Lannister. We can talk again when you've calmed down.” Sansa turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“So you'll send your servant to inspect me... thoroughly, but you'll shun away from confrontation?” With a sudden realisation Sansa understood and remembered her aunt's quite improper remark about checking if Lord Tywin could still give Sansa heirs. But surely aunt Lyanna wouldn't have acted on it... However, apparently she had. “If you do such a thing you have to be ready for the consequences. If you're so interested, my Queen, then by all means, look.” With that Lord Tywin threw away his robe.

Sansa discovered that he was completely naked underneath. Her first reaction was to look away. She could feel herself blushing furiously. Yet once again Sansa refused to be intimidated by this man. She would not dance to his tune. She brought her eyes up again and saw him staring defiantly at her, revelling in her apparent embarrassment. The look in Lord Tywin's eyes helped steel Sansa's resolve. She got her reactions under control and slowly looked him over from head to toe.

Sansa had never before seen a naked man in her life. Oh she was theoretically aware of differences in male and female anatomy, but she had never been able to watch. Since she refused to be ashamed, the gap left by the disappearance of that emotion was quickly filled with curiosity. Sansa walked around Lord Tywin, watching him closely, assessing every inch, inspecting every angle. She was aware of his age, but Lord Tywin didn't seem old.

His body was muscled and well toned, undoubtedly from the many hours he spent in his saddle and practising with his sword. Lord was also covered in scars. There weren't very many of them, but enough to tell a story. His chest, like his head was covered with golden hair, but there wasn't an abundance of it. Sansa's glance inevitably turned towards his groin. There too he had golden hair, but it was his manhood that caught her attention. Sansa had no way of comparing Lord Tywin's physique with any other's, but to her he seemed well endowed.

Finally, her blue eyes returned to his green ones that were flecked with gold. Sansa could see that he was furious for the way she treated him, but to back out would be weakness as they were both aware. She looked at him defiantly. If eyes could shoot lightning, Lord Tywin's definitely would at that moment. Seeing that she had finished her inspection he spoke again.

“Are you done yet? Have you seen your fill?” His tone was sweet. And that word should never be attributed to Lord Tywin Lannister the Great Lion of Casterly Rock. It was way more terrifying than when he was almost shouting. It was a tone that promised retribution and death. Sansa could almost hear the Rains playing in her head.

“If you're done throwing temper tantrums, Lord Lannister, then please put on your robe or whatever else you desire to wear and come talk to me.” Sansa said calmly and she walked out to an adjacent chamber that had comfortable seats and some refreshments prepared.

The whole situation made Sansa really angry. She understood why he reacted that way, but that didn't diminish the discomfort she felt. As if she hadn't felt uneasy enough because of her nightmare. If only he'd known... But of course Sansa wouldn't want him to know. Was she really going to go forth with her plan to marry this man? Yet she couldn't let one episode outweigh all the positive aspects of such a union.

A few moments later Lord Tywin, once again clad in the robe he'd been wearing, entered the chamber. He still looked furious, but knowing what made him so, helped Sansa keep her own calm.

“Do you really think that it's over then? That you can do whatever you want as long as you sit down and talk afterwards?” Lord Tywin's words were meant to hurt her, but Sansa paid it no heed.

“I thought that we were both civilised enough to talk about our problems instead of yelling at each other. Unless you're prepared to prove me wrong, I'd suggest you took a seat.” She could see the struggle within him, but eventually he did sit down. “I had not known about this matter until you barged in, yelling at me.” She stated calmly.

“Why then...” Lord Tywin began, but Sansa cut in.

“Why then had I not admitted it before? I do not appreciate being yelled at or threatened, Lord Tywin.” Sansa remarked.

“And admitting lack of knowledge would have been showing weakness.” Lord Tywin stated.

Sansa was momentarily amazed how similar their train of thought was. “Indeed. Now though I understand what happened and I know the origin of it. What pieces I lack, I can imagine, but I understand that you don't have enough pieces to put it together yet.”

“If it wasn't by your command, Your Grace, then it had to be by Lady Regent's.” Sansa noticed that he used her title and that this time it didn't sound false. “What I cannot comprehend is the reason for it.”

“You must have read reports about the matters discussed in the Small Council meetings in your absence. There was one session when your son asked about my plans to marry.” Sansa said. That was putting it mildly. Lord Tyrion had outright demanded that she should marry.

“I know about that. I've read the reports.” Lord Tywin confirmed.

“What you don't know about is the discussion I've had about that topic with the Lady Regent afterwards. As you can imagine she has strong feelings about the subject.” Sansa would have smiled at that memory had the circumstances of this talk been different.

“I can imagine. And undoubtedly opinions which she should keep to herself.” Lord Tywin wasn't amused in the slightest.

“So should she, especially in public.” Sansa admitted. “But I wouldn't try to tell her that, if I were you.” She warned him. No matter who he was, no one told aunt Lyanna that she should keep quiet on this subject.

“You think me to be afraid of her?” Lord Tywin was still evidently angry, but at least for the moment he was composed.

“I don't. But you still shouldn't tell her.” Sansa stated, but then she dropped the subject. There were matters of far greater importance to talk about. “Anyway we discussed the matter and were later interrupted by my sister, who proposed an interesting solution to the dilemma. In short words, she said I should marry you. The same suggestion was later made by the Grand Maester at the Small Council meeting, but that's beside the point now. After my sister's suggestion my aunt remarked that if I seriously considered it then I should... well she proposed the exact same thing she sent that servant to you for.” Explaining this to Lord Tywin wasn't an easy job. Yet, it was necessary if she wanted him to accept her proposal.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Lord Tywin asked.

“This is not the way I would have liked to talk about it, but I have been considering this matter. I'm telling you all those things, because I don't want there to be a misunderstanding between us. Not on this subject, at the very least. I have thought about it and I know it would be best for the Realm. Provided that you agreed.” There. She had managed to spell it out. Well almost. But he would understand. Now she could only await his reaction.

“Are you proposing, Your Grace?”

Lord Tywin didn't seem even in the slightest as surprised as Sansa would have wished him to be, but at the same time she had to remember that this was a man who had years to perfect keeping his emotions at bay and who rarely let any of them slip. What happened before was not in any way representative or typical.

“No, Lord Tywin. I want us to talk about it. I want you to tell me what you think. Would you even consider it as an option? I'm aware that this plan has flaws, but if you agreed, I think we could make it work.” Sansa hated how hesitant she sounded. She had been resolved. She shouldn't be asking his opinion. Yet it somehow felt right.

“I've heard about the Grand Maester's proposal, but I had thought you'd have reacted like my son had.” Lord Tywin stated. “You're so young, barely a woman, you cannot want to be tied to someone like me.”

Sansa wondered if he really thought so little of her. But at the same time she knew how it looked. She was 13 and she was already the head of House Stark of King's Landing. She could choose to marry whomever she wished. However, Sansa was her mother's daughter and would put duty before everything but family.

“What I want doesn't matter. My first thought, even in this case, maybe especially in this case, must be the good of the Realm.” Sansa wanted to talk with him about all the things she'd thought could bother him. This marriage wouldn't be easy for her, but it could prove difficult for him too. She needed to know he was aware. Though to be honest... he was definitely intelligent enough to come up with it. But at the same time he hadn't had as much time as she had to consider the matter.

*** * * * * * ***

Tywin was utterly perplexed by her admission. How could she be so utterly selfless to consider marrying him? Didn't she dream of love and chivalry like most girls did? He knew he couldn't give her that. Then again Sansa Stark was anything but most girls. But could it really happen? When Tywin looked inside himself he could see his desire to keep his legacy alive. Sure, he had children, but each of them was a disappointment of a kind. And what greater legacy could there be than having his child sit the Iron Throne and establishing a dynasty that could last hundreds of years? Even if he had to marry again which he had never wished for? Even if from time to time he had to yield to her will? Surely it was a small price to pay. He had no greater objections with regard to her than her inexperience, but that wouldn't last long. There would always be a gap between them when it came to that, but it didn't bother him enough to let this opportunity pass him by. He had been ready to mentor her when he agreed to being her Hand and this wouldn't change matters significantly. There was a small voice of guilt in the back of his head. Whispering Joanna's name to him over and over again. But even his late wife had told him he should marry again. On her deathbed she told him that he shouldn't be alone.

“According to you, how would the Realm benefit from this match?” Tywin asked. He wanted to know her thoughts on the subject.

“I believe that if there was a war between our two families then it would surely tear the Seven Kingdoms to shreds. Each of us would like to think that our side would be the winner in such a conflict, but the truth is that it wouldn't matter because whomever prevailed would be ruling over ashes. If we could achieve such results by going against each other, then what could we achieve by working together?” The Queen replied.

“Great things indeed, my Queen.” Tywin was actually quite proud of her. This was strategic thinking way beyond her years. However, he was still quite irritated by the situation that transpired between them before. “I need to know one more thing. Had the circumstances of our today's meeting been different, would you have done what Lady Regent suggested?”

“I wouldn't have had to.” She replied. That was the truth, but Tywin was once again curious of her reasoning, so instead of confirming her words, he only raised his eyebrow questioningly. “After we had talked and established things, I'd only need to ask you and you'd tell me yourself. None of us could afford a childless marriage. Yes, you already have children, but your disappointment with them aside, if you could not give me children I could have the marriage annulled. It would probably result in a war, but neither of us would want that war to happen.”

“Indeed you're not mistaken.” Had she asked he would indeed have told her. This whole matter was so thoroughly absurd, that Tywin would need to have a word with the Lady Regent. “I had no wish to marry again, but I cannot refuse your offer. If you indeed proposed then you wouldn't hear a refusal from me.”

If the young woman was surprised by his answer she hid it well. “It wouldn't be that easy. There would be matters in our union that would be different from any other marriage. Because of my position.” She said. Tywin was aware that this would be no ordinary match, but he was curious what matters she considered to be troublesome. “Our children would have to keep my family name. They could have a double name, but they'd have to be Starks.”

“Like your cousin – Prince Jon. That's understandable.” Tywin replied. It was quite logical. Still he would ensure that everyone recognised that their children came from Houses Stark and Lannister both.

This time the Queen did look surprised to hear that the double name didn't bother him, but she accepted it and carried on. “You wouldn't be able to cloak me in Lannister red and gold. I would marry you, but I could not be Lady Lannister.”

“There was but one Lady Lannister in my life. I had never wished to replace her, so that doesn't trouble me.” Lord Tywin said. This was the greatest problem he himself would have to face. Even though it had been years, the wound left by Joanna's leaving was still gaping in his heart refusing to close. He knew no one could ever compare. At the same time he was fairly certain that Sansa wouldn't even try to. This marriage would be entirely different from his previous one, so maybe it wouldn't be that bad. “Perhaps we could have a compromise with the cloak? What would you say for a new one that would combine the colours of our Houses?”

“White and grey mixed with red and gold? That could work.” The Queen admitted. “There's another thing, however, one that you might not appreciate, my Lord.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow. “What might that be, Your Grace?”

“Even as my betrothed or my husband, you would still have to kneel to me on the day of my coronation and very official occasions.” The Queen said with a slight hesitation, as if she expected him to be angry about it.

“And you thought that I'd be bothered by this because most men would be?” Tywin asked and the Queen nodded as if that was exactly what she had been thinking. Tywin didn't really blame her. A lesser man would have been too proud to kneel to his wife in public, but such a man would be a fool. “I thought that I've already given you reason enough not to count me amongst most men. Such men would be bothered by such actions for two reasons. Either they could be insecure of their position or they could be worried what the people would think of them, or both reasons at once. My position is unquestioned and the lion doesn't concern himself with the opinions of the sheep.”

“Then marry me, Lord Lannister.” The Queen said. Tywin was quite proud of how strong her voice sounded. She was certain of her decision and though he was still perplexed by it, he wouldn't be the one to hesitate.

“Yes, my Queen.” He replied with a certainty that matched hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you loved this, tell me please. If you hated it, tell me too. I need to know. Please.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are love. Comments are double love.


End file.
